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IN FAIR SILESIA. 


TRANSLATED FROM, THE GERMAN OF 
GUSTAV NIERITZ. 


MARY E. IRELAND. 

1 



2?icfymort5, Da. : 

Presbyterian Committee of Publication. 
1894. 




Copyrighted 
b Y 

J A S. K. H A Z E N, Secretary of Publication . 

1894. 


Printed by 

Whittet * Shepperson, 
Richmond, Va. 


/x - wUy 




to Her 


Ualued 2rricnii t 

MRS. LIZZIE R. HOWELL, 

OF PHILADELPHIA, 

A FAITHFUL Worker IN cHUrcH ANd sUHdaY-SCHooLs, 

THIS 

beautiful story of germaN Home Life 
is affectionately dedicated by 

THE TRANSLATOR. 

Washington, D. C. 


















































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CONTENTS. 


Page. 

CHAPTER I. 

Leaving Schellerhaus, 7 

CHAPTER II. 

Uncle Ruckert, . . . . . .21 

CHAPTER III. 

They Take a Walk, ..... 30 

CHAPTER IV. 

Visit to the Proprietor, .... 42 

CHAPTER V. 

The Revolving Shaft, ..... 53 

CHAPTER VI. 

Schoolmaster Krown, ..... 67 

CHAPTER VII. 

Frau Eckhardt’s Visit, ..... 84 

CHAPTER VIII. 

New Machinery, ...... 94 

5 


6 

The Attack, . 

contents. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Page. 

107 

Many Changes, 

CHAPTER X. 

. 123 

The Oder River, 

CHAPTER XL 

. 135 

Return Home, 

CHAPTER XII. 

. 142 


IN FAIR SILESIA. 


CHAPTER I. 

LEAVING SCHELLERHAUS. 

“ A RE you tired, Joseph ?” 

r\ The speaker was a poorly-dressed girl 
of about eleven years of age, her brother two 
years older. 

They had walked from the village of Schel- 
lerhaus, at the foot of the chain of mountains 
between Silesia and Bohemia, noted for its 
glass-cutting, and each carried a small bundle 
of clothing. 

“No, Helena, it would take more than a two- 
hour’s walk to tire me, but I am thinking.” 

“What of, Joseph?” 

“What else, but leaving our mother and 
Schellerhaus ; I do not expect to be ever so 
contented again, now we have left our home.” 

“I cannot keep from crying, Joseph, when I 


8 


In Fair Silesia. 


think of it,” said Helena, her eyes filling with 
tears, “mother is crying yet, I know.” 

“ But she told us that we would fare better 
with our uncle in Beiclienstein than it was pos- 
sible with her. We would have bread and 
butter instead of oatmeal,” said Joseph, cheer- 
fully. “ Uncle Ruckert carries a silver watch 
in his oocket, and has a clock that strikes the 
time in his office.” 

“Yes, but will he be glad to see us? Mother 
did not seem sure of it, she only said she hoped 
he would let us stay with him ; and the farther 
we get from home the more anxious I feel. 
Suppose he won’t have us ; what will we do ? ” 

“ Oh ! I am sure he won’t turn us away,” 
comforted Joseph, “mother said he gets good 
wages as spinning-master in Herr Lauderman’s 
factory, and has no wife or children. She must 
know that he will take us in, or she wouldn’t 
have sent us.” 

“ She had to send us,” persisted Helena, “ our 
piece of oat-cake kept getting smaller, and it 
distressed our mother, though she tried to keep 
us from knowing it. I heard her in the night 
crying, and praying to the dear God for help, 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 9 

and then she made up her mind to send us 
away.” 

“ If uncle is only kind and good like mother, 
we will be all right,” commented her brother, 
“but sometimes brothers and sisters are not 
one bit alike in disposition.” 

“ Is that the case with us? ” 

“ You have a better disposition than I have, 
mother always said that; more than this, she 
says I am so easily influenced that she dreads 
for me to go where people are not pious, for I 
would follow in their ways, and by the advice 
she gave us, I am sure uncle is not reli- 
gious.” 

“But she always told us to think the best we 
could of people, and if uncle is wicked, we are 
old enough to know better than to copy after 
him.” 

“ She seemed afraid that he would not want 
us, and she was nearly crying all the time she 
was writing that long, kind letter to him. I 
think the letter and the beautiful cut-glass cup 
with his and mother’s names upon it will please 
him, and he cannot help liking the purse you 
knit for him ; the silk in it cost five groschen.” 


10 


In Fair Silesia. 


“ If he will only keep us until I can get a 
place as nurse for children, and you get some- 
thing to do where you can go to school. But 
look, Joseph, there is the church steeple of 
Warmbrunn; when we get there we are only 
three miles from Reichenstein, mother said, 
and she said we could stop there a little 
while/’ 

It was summer, in the height of the bathing 
season at Warmbrunn, and the place was filled 
with guests, gay parties of apparently care-free 
people, walking and driving out, chatting merri- 
ly, as if there was not such things as poverty 
and trouble in the world. Booths containing 
toys, sweetmeats and fruits were dotted thickly 
about, and street peddlers were offering their 
wares, which were temptingly displayed in 
baskets and upon trays. 

“Just look at the money-purses, Joseph,” 
said Helena, “they are far prettier than the 
one I knit for uncle, I am sure if he sees these 
he won’t be pleased with mine.” 

“But, sister, he will know that you could 
not afford to buy silver, and gilt-beads and 
rings ; he ought to be pleased with it because 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 11 

you knit it and gave it to him, not for its 
price.” 

“Yes, but mine looks so poor beside these, 
and I thought it so beautiful before we left 
Schellerhaus.” 

“ But these are only for rich people who have 
gold to put in them; uncle is better off than 
we are, but I am sure one that is made for 
silver and copper will suit him much better. 
Silver and gold beads tarnish and rust if not 
carefully used. Besides, the silk is so fine in 
these purses that silver or copper would cut 
through and be lost, so you see the strong, 
coarse silk you used is far better for uncle.” 

Helena was comforted by this wise reason- 
ing, and her dissatisfaction was forgotten in 
viewing a tray of ribbons and embroideries, 
while Joseph was equally delighted with a 
large cage of canaries that were singing mer- 
rily, happily unconscious that they might be 
sold to some girl or boy who would neglect the 
helpless little creatures, and allow them to 
suffer for food or drink, or f^om heat or cold. 

At length they came to a booth where books 
and pictures were sold, and Joseph was so 


12 


In Fair Silesia. 


charmed that he could not take his eyes away 
from them, until the ill-tempered salesman 
brought his hand down roughly upon the 
shoulder of the startled boy. 

“ Stand back, country blockhead ! ” said he, 
“ can’t you see you are keeping buyers away ?” 

Joseph stepped back quickly, and he and 
Helena hurried away. This man was the first 
rude person they had met upon their travels, 
and they were not sorry to part from him ; but, 
fortunately, they determined to forget annoy- 
ances in the many pleasant incidents constantly 
passing before them, and the next booth they 
stopped to inspect contained white and colored 
glassware of many beautiful designs. 

It was now Joseph’s turn to be somewhat 
dissatisfied with the present they were taking 
to their uncle. 

Oh ! Helena, look at the splendid pitchers 
and cups; what will uncle think of the poor 
little affair we all thought so beautiful ? ” 

At that moment a fashionably-dressed lady 
stepped to the stand and priced a vase for 
flowers. 

“ Seven dollars, lady, and very cheap at that 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 13 

price,” said the salesman, politely, for like 
other naturally coarse-minded people he let 
his manners suit the occasion, and had ordered 
the children to stand back in the same tone 
adopted by the book-seller. 

“ Seven dollars for a vase to hold flowers!’ 
said Helena, in astonishment, “ when poor 
mother, with her steadiest work, can only 
make twenty, or, at most, twenty-two groschens 
a week, out of which must come the rent of 
her home and the support of her two children.” 
But both agreed that the vase was very beau- 
ful, and resolving not to be cast down by the 
contrast between it and the present for their 
uncle, they passed on. The strains of sweet 
music from a string-band restored their spirits, 
and they hurried to the spot where it was sta- 
tioned. 

Their knowledge of music was limited to the 
performance of the old schoolmaster of Schel- 
lerhaus upon the violin, and that of a glass- 
cutter who played a few airs upon the flute. 
Besides these the only sounds that they had 
heard were the shepherd’s horn and the night 
watchman’s whistle. Therefore, the concert, 


14 


In Fair Silesia. 


which was no novelty to the guests at Warm- 
brunn, was appreciated with open-mouthed 
delight by these simple-minded mountain chil- 
dren, who listened without speaking a word 
until the sounds died away. It is doubtful if 
they would have thought of moving on had not 
the music ceased, but that fact recalled to their 
minds that they had three miles yet to walk ; 
so they left the attractive place, talking as they 
went of the curious instruments and the skill 
with which they were handled 

“I am hungry and tired,” said Helena; “we 
had something left of our dinner ; let us sit 
down somewhere and eat it.” 

“I see a brook and shade further on; let us 
rest there,” replied Joseph; and, still talking 
of the wonders of Warmbrunn, they reached a 
shady bank, where they ate the remainder of 
the simple fare that their mother had pro- 
vided. 

They had just finished, and had taken a re- 
freshing drink of cool water from the brook, 
when they heard the sound of wheels, and, 
glancing back toward the road, they saw a fine 
carriage, in which sat a lady, a boy, and a girl. 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 15 

A sullen-looking coachman drove the pair of 
handsome horses, but the footman’s seat back 
of the carriage was empty. 

“Bun, Lenchen!” cried Joseph, catching 
her hand; “we can jump up on the footman’s 
seat and ride part of the way.” 

They soon caught up with the carriage, 
which was slowly ascending a hill, sprang up 
without any trouble, and were seated comfort- 
ably, to their great delight, and without any 
thought that they were seen. The coachman 
waited until the carriage reached the top of the 
hill, when, rising from the box, he gave a cut 
with his whip across the top of the carriage. 
Joseph received it on the back of his neck, 
and the end of the lash struck Helena upon 
the cheek. A cry went up from the startled 
children, and they dropped quickly to the 
ground. 

“What do you think of that?” said Joseph, 
as they saw the carriage rolling rapidly away. 

“I think the driver struck as if he wished to 
hurt us,” was her reply, as she rubbed her tin- 
gling cheek. 

“We could always ride in an empty wood- 


16 


In Fair Silesia. 


cart or sand-wagon at home,” said Joseph. 
“ What would our mother say if she knew how 
we were treated?” 

“It would make her sorry, so we will not tell 
her; she has enough trouble about us.” 

“Your cheek is as red as fire where the lash 
hit you.” 

“And your neck has a red welt upon it; does 
it smart, Joseph?” 

“ I should say it does. I am glad I have not 
a temper like that man.’ 

“You may well say that,” remarked a half- 
grown boy, who had been resting under the 
shade of a great tree near the roadside. “I saw 
him stand to strike you, and I thought to my- 
self, ‘Like master, like man.’ I know who the 
people in the carriage are, for I worked in their 
factory, and saw them often : they are the wife 
and son and daughter of Herr Laudermann, of 
Eeichenstein. He owns a clotli-mill, and has 
gotten rich by oppressing his work-people. 
Everybody dislikes him, and all say that his 
riches will bring no blessing to him.’ 

“Oh, dear!” said Helena, half-aloud. 

“Does your cheek pain you?” inquired the 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 17 

boy. “When we reach the next stream you 
can bathe it ; that will ease the pain.” 

“My sister is not troubled about that,” said 
Joseph, “but we are on our way to Reichen- 
stein to stay with the brother of our mother, 
who is spinning-master in Herr Laudermann’s 
factory ; and she is sorry to know that the mill- 
owner is a person of that kind, for we both 
hope to get work in his factory.” 

“What is your name?” 

“Joseph Eckhardt, and my sister’s name is 
Helena.” 

“Was your mother too poor to keep you at 
home?” 

“ Yes, she thought we could live better if we 
came here.” 

“Well, I am sorry for you. Laudermann is 
greedy and hard-hearted, and your Uncle Ruck- 
ert is rough-tempered and drinks too much 
beer. I am sorry if I have discouraged you, 
but you might as well know the truth first as 
last. But my main reason for telling you is, 
that I wish to tell you of somebody in Reich- 
enstein who will be a good friend to you if you 
need a friend, and I am pretty sure you will. 

2 


18 


In Fair Silesia. 


His name is Herr Caspar Krown, and he is the 
schoolmaster of Reichenstein. He has a good- 
sized house, and his school is in one part of it. 
He is a good Christian, helps everybody who 
needs help, and everybody loves him and re- 
spects his opinions. And now our roads part 
here. Good-bye, and keep up good hearts.” 

The boy trudged away, and Helena burst 
into tears. 

“ Oh, if mother had known all this she would 
never have let us come,” sobbed she. 

“Oh, Lenchen, we are tired and hungry, and 
all looks gloomy to us. Maybe uncle will be 
kind and if we find that we cannot live with 
him, we can go back to Schellerhaus. Mother 
said it might be hard for us at first, but that, if 
we trust in God, all would come out right.” 

“But every person was kind to us in Schel- 
lerhaus,” said Helena. “The only trouble we 
had was, that there was nothing for us to do to 
earn money, and it worried mother that she 
could not earn enough to keep us in food and 
clothes. I wish that we were at home again. 
I am so tired, I feel that I cannot walk any 
further.” 


Leaving Schellerhaus. 19 

“ But we must, Helena ; we cannot sleep on 
the grouud.” 

This thought put new energy into the girl; 
she walked faster, and in a short time they 
came in sight of a great building with many 
windows and a tall chimney. They knew that 
it was the factory ; and while they gazed a bell 
rang, then they heard a shrill whistle, and men, 
women, boys, and girls swarmed through the 
doors, and hurried to their homes. 

Not far from the factory was a handsome 
dwelling with beautiful grounds, and the chil- 
dren were right in believing it to be the home 
of Herr Laudermann. The carriage that they 
had seen was at the gate, and the boy Adolph 
was feeding the horses with blades of grass 
that he plucked from the lawn. 

“Does the spinning-master Buckert live here 
and work in this factory?” inquired Joseph of 
a boy who was passing him on his way to his 
home. 

“Yes!” 

“ Is he within, and can I see him ? ” 

“He is within, but whether you can see him 
is another question ; it will be just as he chooses. 


20 


In Fair Silesia. 


You go up these steps, turn to the right, and 
you will see a door with ‘‘Office” over it. You 
can knock, and maybe he will let you in, and 
maybe he won’t.” 

With heavy hearts the children followed 
these directions, and knocked timidly at the 
office-door, then waited to be asked to enter. 


CHAPTER II. 


UNCLE RUCKERT. 

A CCUSTOMED to the pure mountain air 
of Schellerliaus, the smell of the factory 
was extremely disagreeable to Helena and 
Joseph, but they had a much greater concern 
upon their minds, that being the meeting with 
their uncle, and all other annoyances were tri- 
fles. 

There was no response to Joseph’s knock, so 
Helena doubled her fist and gave several 
thumps upon the door. Then Joseph knocked 
again, and after waiting a few minutes they 
opened the door and went in, finding no one 
there. 

The office faced the road and the setting sun, 
was large, cheerful and in perfect order, but 
was not so pleasant to the children as the poor 
little home of their mother. Canaries, evi- 
dently well cared for, hung in gilded cages in 
the broad windows, a desk with two stools 
stood between them, a wide sofa used as a 
21 


22 


In lair Silesia. 


sleeping place, and having a snow-white pillow 
and spread, was at the back of the room, a 
table covered with pamphlets and other papers 
was in the centre, and in one corner a clock in 
a tall, polished case. 

The children had time to take note of all 
these things, and to begin to feel anxious, 
when a step was heard in the corridor, the 
door opened, and a thick-set, burley looking, 
red-faced man came in. 

He stopped at the door and looked at the 
children in surprise. 

“Who are you?” inquired he, “ and what 
are you doing in my office? ” 

Joseph tried to explain, but words failed him, 
and taking his mother’s letter from his pocket 
he put it in his uncle’s hand, who opened and 
read it, his face growing darker and more 
forbidding with each line. When finished, 
he threw it angrily upon the table. 

“My sister took a great deal upon herself 
when she sent her two children to me to pro- 
vide for. I have no use for you and will not 
have the bother; you must go straight back to 
Schellerhaus.” 


Uncle Ruckert. 


23 


Herr Ruckert went to the window and looked 
out, his anger increasing as he considered the 
affair, while the children stood looking at each 
other, not knowing what to say or do. 

At length Helena thought of the glass cup 
which her mother had sent, and taking it from 
the bundle, she gave it into Joseph’s hand to 
present. 

“ Uncle,” said he, “our mother sent you this 
present; see it has her name and yours upon 
it; she sent it with her love.” 

“And here is a purse I knit for you, Uncle 
Ruckert, it is good and strong, and will hold 
silver and copper.” 

“ What do I want of such trifles ? ” exclaimed 
Ruckert, contemptuously, “all I want is for you 
to leave here as quickly as possible.” 

“ Let us go, Helena, he won’t let us stay,” said 
Joseph, in a low tone. 

“ Where shall we go ? It is too late to walk 
back to our home; besides, I am almost sick 
for rest, and we would have no place to 
sleep.” 

“It is yet summer, and not cold; we can 
sleep near a straw stack. But wait, Lenchen. 


24 


In Fair Silesia. 


What is the name of the person that the boy 
told ns to call npon if we needed a friend ? It 
was something about a king, but I don’t re- 
member what it was.” 

“ I remember,” replied his sister, cheerfully ; 
“it was Krown; the boy said he is a school- 
master. Let us go to him.” 

At these words Ruckert turned quickly from 
the window and came to them. 

“What is Krown to you?” said he, roughly. 
“ What do you want of him ? ” 

“We were told by one who knows him that 
he is liked by everybody, and that he helps all 
who need help, because he is a good Christian. 
We are in trouble and need help, so we are go- 
ing to him.” 

“Krown has no business to get mixed up 
with this,” said Ruckert, flushing angrily; “he 
is a person I despise; you shall not go to him.” 

“ Put the cup and purse in the bundle, Hel- 
ena; we must go somewhere before it is night,” 
said Joseph. 

“Wait, don’t be in such a rush, until I see 
what I can do. Have you had any supper?” 
inquired Ruckert, harshly. 


Uncle Rucker t. 


25 


The children hesitated ; then Helena, at a 
nod from Joseph, spoke: 

“ Our mother gave us an oat-meal cake to eat 
on the way ; we ate the last of it after we left 
Warmbrunn.” 

With a frown of impatience, their uncle took 
a loaf of bread from a box in one corner, cut 
off two thick slices, and, putting with each a 
piece of cheese, gave it to them without a word. 

“Can we have a drink, uncle? We are very 
thirsty,” quoth Helena. 

“I wonder what next you will ask for. Do 
you suppose that I have nothing else to do but 
to wait upon you? There is a tank in that 
corner, and a cup beside it ; go and help your- 
selves.” 

They went, but soon came back to the sofa 
near the desk, where their uncle had taken a 
seat. 

“Did you drink?” questioned he. 

“No; it is water we want; that is beer.” 

“Well, what is the matter with beer?” 

“Our mother does not allow us to drink it.” 

“Why not? Is she trying to set you up as 
being better than other people ? ” 


26 In Fair Silesia. 

Joseph said nothing, but Helena spoke up 
bravely : 

“If you will be so good as to tell us where 
to get water, we will not trouble you any more, 
uncle.” 

“There is a pump out in the mill-yard, and 
here is a pitcher. Now let me have a little 
peace, will you?” 

A few minutes later Joseph came in with a 
pitcher of pure, cool water, and Ruckert, hand- 
ing them two tin cups, returned to his writing. 

God had blessed these children with cheer- 
ful, self-reliant dispositions, and their mother 
had taught them to take the brightest possible 
view of what life offered. So, sitting by each 
other upon the sofa, they forgot all discomtort 
caused by Ruckert’s rudeness, and enjoyed the 
good bread and cheese as only those can to 
whom such fare is a luxury. 

They had not finished when Ruckert arose, 
and going to the beer can, drank a quantity 
that astonished the children, then went out 
into the factory yard where he met the mill- 
owner’s coachman. 

“ Hans,” said he, “ who do you think I have 


Uncle Ruckert. 


27 


quartered upon me? Who, but the two chil- 
dren of my sister ; I who have no home except 
the factory, and have no liking for children. I 
don’t know where to put them for even the one 
night they will have to stay. You know I sleep 
in the office on the sofa, will you let them sleep 
in the stable upon the hay ? ” 

“ I would like to oblige you, Ruckert, but it 
would put me out of my place. Herr Lauder- 
mann would discharge me ; he wouldn’t let 
man, woman or child sleep in his out-buildings, 
fearing they had matches about them and would 
set the place on fire.” 

“These children could be searched,” said 
Ruckert, “though I am sure they have no 
matches about them. It would be a great favor 
to me to get a place for them to sleep.” 

“It won’t be in the stables, ’ r replied Hans, 
stoutly, “ certainly there is some place in the 
factory to put them.” 

“My sister deserves a beating for sending 
her children to worry the life out of me. They 
have walked all the way from Schellerhaus 
since morning.” 

“A boy and a girl?” questioned the coach- 


28 


In Fair Silesia. 


man,” I suspect they are the very children that 
jumped up on the footman’s board, and I gave 
them a stroke from my whip which sent them 
off faster than they came. Did they tell you 
of it ? ” 

“No, but the girl has a red mark on her 
cheek and the boy a welt on the back of his 
neck, no doubt they are the ones; you didn’t 
give them any more than they deserved, and I 
wish it had scared them off from coming here.’’ 

He returned to the office, and set about try- 
ing to arrange places for his unwelcome guests, 
and not all their evident attempts to conciliate 
him could chase away his displeasure. He 
collected several sacks of wool which were 
standing about and arranged them in a corner 
of his office for Joseph, and placed several 
more in an adjoining room for Helena, gave 
each an old blanket, and told them to be in 
bed and out of the way before he came back, 
with which advice he left the office. 

“If our mother could know how uncle re- 
ceived us, wouldn’t she worry?” said Helena, 
as she arose to go to the place allotted her. 

“She stands a fair chance of knowing very 


Uncle liuckert. 


29 


soon, for I think uncle is meaning to send us 
back to Schellerhaus in the morning,” replied 
the brother. 

“Poor mother will be so worried, for she 
cannot give us the food that she says we ought 
to have to make us grow strong.” 

“Well, we will stay here as long as we can, I 
for one am thankful that he did not turn us out 
to-night. More than that, we have schoolmas- 
ter Krown.” 

“ Oh ! yes ; I almost forgot that ; if uncle says 
we must leave here we will go to see him. Oh ! 
I am so glad we know of him. Good-night, 
Joseph, I am so sleepy I can scarcely keep my 
eyes open.” 

“I could drop down anywhere and sleep,” 
answered her brother, “and these wool sacks 
are certainly soft and comfortable. Good- 
night, Lenchen, mother told us not to forget 
our prayers.” 


CHAPTEE III. 


THEY TAKE A WALK. 

T OSEPH was awakened the next morning by 
I a clashing, rolling, rumbling sound, which 
alarmed him so much that he sprang from 
his bed and ran to Helena’s door to awaken 
her, thinking that the factory was on fire. 

His Uncle Euckert had left the office, and 
the children had no one to ask as to the terri- 
ble noise. They dressed hastily, and went to 
the place from whence the most of it seemed to 
proceed, opened a door, and saw a huge black 
object in what seemed to them the bottomless 
pit, and which shook the floor upon which they 
were standing, and, in truth, the whole factory 
resounded with the noise of machinery which 
it was keeping in motion. 

That which they had thought to be a great 
fire was only the factory, set, several hours be- 
fore, in working order for the day ; and, closing 
the office-door, they went out in search of their 
uncle. They met many men and women with 
30 


31 


They Take a Walk. 

baskets of wool, most of which was already 
spun, and at length they saw the spinning- 
master. 

“Well, sleepy-heads ! ” said he, “I suppose 
you would have slept until noon if you had not 
gotten hungry. What brings you out here? 
Are you hunting your breakfast ? ” 

“We were frightened at the noise; we thought 
that the factory was on fire,” said Joseph. 

“Go back to the office, and I will give you 
something to eat.” 

The children obeyed, and in a few minutes 
the spinning-master, having finished his duties 
for the time, which had called him from his of- 
fice, came in, gave them their allowance of 
bread and choese, and pointed to the water- 
can. 

“Can you read and write?” questioned he 
of Joseph, when their breakfast was finished. 

“Yes; I am twelve years old and a few 
months over, and have been to school for four 
years.” 

“Good!” responded Euckert. “Here is a 
column that I wish you to add up, and here is 
pen, paper, and ruler. Now do it right, or you 


32 


In Fair Silesia. f 


will be sorry for it. And the girl, what can you 
do ? ” turning to Helena. 

“I can sew, and spin flax, and cook.” 

“Cook!” echoed her uncle, sneeringly ; “ I 
suppose all that amounts to is the making of 
gruel, and boiling potatoes in their jackets. 
But I will see what you can do at sewing. 
Here is a vest that needs mending and several 
buttons ; I expect you to do it well, and to darn 
these stockings neatly ; but first give the cana- 
ries their seed and fill their cups with fresh 
water. I will keep you both for two days, al- 
though I do not thank your mother for putting 
two such millstones about my neck.” 

These words dampened the gratitude that 
the children had felt for the good bread and 
cheese ; they looked at each other and remained 
silent ; and Kuckert, locking the desk as though 
afraid to trust them so long with its contents, 
left the room. 

“ The poor birds, how shamefully they are 
treated ! ” said Lenchen, glancing at the ne- 
glected cages. “ I am glad he told me to 
attend to them, for it worries me to see the 
helpless little things trying to take their baths 


33 


They Take a Walk. 

in their drinking cups, in which there is but 
a few drops of water, anything but fresh. 
How can they be happy and sing in such a 
place?” 

While talking she was busily engaged in pre- 
paring a cage for thorough cleansing. The 
wx>rk for all the birds was done thoroughly, 
fresh water and seed given, then taking a piece 
of paper in her hand she went out for the fino, 
white sand she had seen the evening before 
near the pump. 

She had secured it, when hearing a pleasant 
voice address her, she turned, and saw the girl 
whom she had noticed in the carriage the day 
before, the daughter of Herr Laudermann. She 
had a handsome glass pitcher in her hand, and 
passing it to Helena, asked her to fill it. 

“ Oh ! it came near being broken,” said Helena, 
in a startled tone, as she loosed her grasp upon 
it too soon when passing it filled to the girl, 
who fortunately caught it, I would have been 
very sorry, for it is so beautiful.” 

“We have far prettier ones than this, and 
yesterday we bought a lot of glassware at 
Warmbrunn, so there was no need for you to 
3 


34 


In Fair Silesia. 


turn pale with fright thinking you were letting 
this one fall. What is your name? Mine is 
Toska Laudermann, and what made that red 
mark on your cheek ? ” 

“ Helena Eckliardt, and your coachman struck 
me with his whip.” 

“Was it you who got up behind our carriage 
yesterday?” inquired Toska, reddening. “It 
was my brother Adolph’s fault, for he told Hans 
you were there. Was it your brother who was 
with you, and did he get hurt?” 

“Yes, it was my brother, and he has a welt 
on the back of his neck.” 

“Where do you live? ” 

“In Schellerhaus, up in the mountains.” 

“Are you and your brother to work in our 
factory? ” 

“No, we are only to visit our Uncle Ruckert; 
we are to go back in two days.” 

“Do you want to go?” 

“No, we would rather stay.” 

“Who makes you go?” 

“Our uncle; he will not keep us, although 
o,ur mother wrote to him that she could not 
earn enough to keep us in clothes and food.” 


They Take a Walk. 35 

“I never heard of such an uncle as that, 
if—” 

“ Toska, why don’t you come with the water,” 
cried a woman’s voice from the front door of 
the dwelling. 

Toska hurried away, and Helena went into 
the office with the sand, supplied each cage, 
then set down to the mending. 

“Dear, dear!” said she after inspecting the 
hose, “it is no use trying to mend these, the 
heels are so worn. I will knit new ones in, 
but first will wash them ; I wish I had a piece 
of soap, but will Lave to wait until uncle comes 
back.” 

“ There is a little piece over there by the beer 
tank, why not use that ? ” suggested Joseph. 

Helena was quick to avail herself of this; 
the stockings were washed and put in the sun, 
and she turned her attention to the rest, while 
Joseph, who had counted over his column sev- 
eral times, tried it once more to see if the re- 
sult would be the same, and was satisfied that 
it was correct. 

“I would like to know what we are to have 
for dinner,” remarked Helena, as her needle 


36 


In Fair Silesia. 


flew in and out; “I see no kitchen, nor stove, 
nor fire, nor pans; neither do I see potatoes, 
nor anything else to eat, and I am getting hun- 
gry. What do you think about it, Joseph?” 

“ I think that I am nearly starved; but it is 
not the first time, and we made no fuss about 
it, either.” 

At that moment a shrill whistle sounded 
through the great factory, the signal for the 
noon rest and dinner, and their uncle entered 
the office. His first glance was at the canaries, 
but whether he noticed the improved condition 
of the cages or not, Helena could not tell. He 
turned from them to the chest, took from it a 
cloth, and spread it upon the table, from which 
he had removed papers and books, and had 
scarcely finished putting on plate, knife, and 
fork, when a woman came in with a basket, in 
which was his dinner, and a pitcher of water. 
She cast a look of surprise upon the children, 
which they returned with interest, as she put 
upon the table a piece of fat pork, a dish of 
potatoes, and six dumplings. Then she left the 
office. 

Ruckert put a small slice of the meat, a po- 


37 


They Take a Walk. 

tato, and a dumpling upon a plate for each of 
the children, to which he added a small piece 
of bread. 

“Now go where you please to eat, but not 
here,” he said. “I want this hour to myself, 
and will not be disturbed. And another thing 
I wish you to remember, and that is, not to go 
near the school-house of Caspar Krown in the 
village. If I hear of that, or hear of his name 
being spoken by you, you will find yourselves 
sent back to Schellerhaus.” 

The children took the plates, and found a 
shaded place back of the factory, where they 
sat down to eat. 

“It is real good,” commented Joseph. “If 
mother was with us it would taste much better. 
I could eat more if I had it ; couldn’t you Hel- 
ena? ” 

His sister nodded her head in the affirmative, 
and they sat for a while in silence. 

“I wonder why uncle doesn’t want us to see 
the schoolmaster,” said she. “He appears to 
be afraid of him.” 

“And isn’t it strange, Helena, that it is owing 
to a boy that we have never seen but once, and 


38 


In Fair Silesia. 


to a man that we have never seen at all, that 
we are not sent back to Schellerhaus ? ” 

“ If we had not met the boy, we would not 
have heard of Herr Krown,” remarked his sis- 
ter. “I am glad that we met him.” 

“Now that our dinner is finished, we might 
take a walk and look about us. We have a 
good half-hour, and can see a good deal in that 
time. Stick the plates and other things in the 
bushes, and let us go.” 

“No, somebody might take them, and uncle 
would be angry. I will take them back and 
put them by the office-door.” 

This was quickly done, and they set out upon 
their walk. The dwelling of Herr Laudermann 
was the first place inspected, and they stood at 
the garden-fence, looking at the flowers and at 
the summer-house covered with vines ; then 
they walked on, and were in Reichenstein al- 
most before they knew it. The church with its 
tower, the white marble monuments in the 
church-yard, and the small, but neat dwellings 
of the weavers, were all objects of interest. 

At length they came to a large house, over 
the door of which were the words “ C. Krown, 


They Take a Walk. 


39 


Schoolmaster,” and the children halted, and 
looked at each other in joyous surprise. 

Without intending to disobey their uncle, 
they had come to the very place that they had 
been forbidden to come, and through the clear 
windows they could see desks and benches, all 
empty, for it was noon, and the children had 
gone home to dinner. 

They wandered on until they reached a hedge 
at the back of the garden, where they heard 
the sound of a man’s voice, cheery and pleas- 
ant, which did them good. 

“ See, dear Lenchen, how well our trees are 
bearing ; I have a full basket of pears already.” 

A break in the hedge gave the children a 
chance to peep through, and they saw the 
schoolmaster upon a step-ladder, with his wife 
standing by. 

“Oh! what a pretty lady!” whispered Hel- 
ena “Doesn’t she look good and kind?” 

“So does the schoolmaster,” replied Joseph; 
“very different from our uncle.” 

“Oh, Caspar, dear,” said the lady, “two of 
the prettiest pears fell on the other side of the 
hedge. What a pity!” 


40 


In lair Silesia. 


“But some one will get them, and, I hope, 
will enjoy them.” 

Helena had seen them fall, and, picking them 
up, she reached them through the hedge. 

“Thank you, little one,” said Frau Krown; 
“ keep them ; we give them to you willingly. I 
think you are strangers in Beichenstein ; I do 
not remember having seen you.” 

“No, you have never before seen us,” replied 
Helena ; then, dreading to be further ques- 
tioned, she thanked the lady for the pears, and 
they hurried away. 

“Oh, Joseph,” said she, as they bent their 
steps toward the factory, “what would uncle 
say if he knew that we had seen and talked 
with Frau Krown? I feel as Eve must have 
felt when she ate the apple that she was for- 
bidden to touch.” 

“But I don’t see how we are to keep from 
seeing Schoolmaster Krown,” said Joseph; “if 
we stay here, we must go to the village some- 
times, and cannot help meeting him.” 

“I cannot feel as sorry as I ought; I am 
glad that I saw them, for uncle made me curi- 
ous to see what they would do and say, and 


They Take a Walk. 


41 


how they looked. I like them both so much, 
and their cool, pretty house with the great lin- 
den shading it ; and their great garden with 
flowers and vegetables does look so different 
from the factory. I wish that we could live 
there.” 

‘‘You might as well wish for the moon, Len- 
chen,” replied her brother, as they reached the 
steps of the factory just in time to go in with 
the others. 


CHAPTER IV. 


VISIT TO THE PROPRIETOR. 

HEN the factory bell sounded at six 



o’clock the next morning, the children 


were up and dressed and waiting in the office 
for their uncle. 

He came in, spoke gruffly to them, and gave 
them their breakfast. 

“ I have concluded to keep you awhile,” said 
he, when they finished, “ but only upon condi- 
tion that you work, and are obedient. Do you 
promise ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; willingly ! ” said both. 

“ I am going to give you some real work,” 
continued Ruckert ; “what you did yesterday 
was only child’s play. I have spoken to Herr 
Laudermann, and he is willing that you should 
work in the factory ; so come with me.” 

The children followed, and were led to a large 
hall where were many women and girls stand- 
ing before machinery which was putting the fine 
strands of cotton wool upon spools. 


42 


4b 


Visit to the Proprietor . 

“ Rose,” said Ruckert, to a slender, pale little 
girl, “I wish you to teach my niece to spin; 
and you, Helena, pay attention to what she 
says, for no work can be done right without 
attention. Come, Joseph, follow me.” 

Two stories higher they reached another long 
room, where more than fifty work-people were 
beating the dust from cotton wool, and Joseph 
was given a place among them. The hard ex- 
ercise was not more trying to him than the 
noise which almost deafened him, and when 
dinner-time came he was almost exhausted 
with the unaccustomed exertion, and his arms 
were stiff and sore. 

Lenchen was weary of standing, and won- 
dered how she would be able to endure it day 
after day. 

The next morning her uncle came and stood 
for a moment watching her at work. 

“ Do you understand how to spin well? ” in- 
quired he, brusquely. 

“ Yes, uncle, it was very easy to learn.” 

“Can you spin as well as Rose? Do you 
think she can, Rose ? ” turning to the girl. 

“Yes, I never saw any one learn so quickly.” 


44 


In Fair Silesia. 


“ I was expecting that, and as she can man- 
age the machine as well as you, I do not need 
your services any longer.” 

“Oh, Herr Buckert!” cried she, clasping her 
hands in distress, while her thin face turned paler 
than before, “ think of my poor, sickly mother ; 
how can we live if I don’t earn something ? ” 

“That is not my business,” replied the spin- 
ning-master, coldly, “ we have too many hands, 
now, some one will have to go, and it might as 
well be you as anybody.” 

“ But I have always worked faithfully, and 
you were satisfied with my work. Frau Hem- 
pie, who stands next to me, will tell you that I 
never neglect the spindles a moment.” 

“ No, there is, I am sure, no one in the factory 
who is more faithful,” said the woman. 

“ But that is not the question,” said Herr 
Buckert, impatiently. “ Herr Laudermann told 
me to discharge some one to make room for 
Helena, and it might as well be Bose as any 
one, unless you prefer to give up your place to 
her,” he continued, looking at Frau Hemple, 
“if not, attend to your own affairs, and don’t 
meddle with what doesn’t concern you.” 


45 


Visit to the Proprietor. 

Lenchen’s heart went out in pity to the girl 
whose place she had innocently usurped, and, 
with tears in her eyes, she turned to the spin- 
ning-master. 

“Oh, uncle, please do not let me crowd her 
out of her place. I will do any work that you 
give me, even if much harder, if you will let her 
stay. She has told me all her troubles, and I 
feel so sorry for her. Please speak to Herr 
Laudermann, and ask if she can stay.” 

“Silence!” cried Ruckert, sternly. “What 
does an ignorant mountain girl know of the 
business of a great factory ? ” And he turned 
from them and went to his office. 

“Oh! my poor mother!” cried Rose, as tears 
rolled down her pale cheeks, “how can I tell 
her this bad news ? ” 

Like an inspiration it came into Lenchen’s 
mind what the boy had told her and Joseph in 
case trouble came their way, and she passed on 
the advice to one who sorely needed it. 

“Do you know Schoolmaster Krown? He 
is a good man, and will help anybody that 
needs help.” 

Rose grasped eagerly at this consolation. 


46 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Oh, yes,” said she; “if anybody can help 
us, it is Schoolmaster Krown.” 

“Uncle is a hard-hearted man,” said Helena 
to herself when Eose left the room. “He did 
not seem to care that the poor sick mother 
would have nothing to live on.” 

The next day Herr Euckert told the children 
that he wished to speak to them at noon ; so, 
as soon as their simple meal was finished, they 
went to him in his office. 

“The mill-owner has not as yet seen you,” 
said he, gruffly, “and he told me to send you 
up to his house at a little after twelve. I want 
you to make him think as well of you as you 
can, for if he won’t have you, there is nothing 
else to do but to send you back to Scheller- 
haus.” 

“What do you wish us to do, uncle, to make 
him like us?” questioned Helena. 

“Wash your hands and faces, brush your 
hair smoothly, and when he speaks to you 
answer promptly and clearly. There is nothing 
that he hates like mumbling. Now go, and do 
as I tell you, and be as quick as you can.” 

This visit, the children were quite sure, would 


47 


Visit to the Proprietor . 

not be any pleasure, and perhaps no advantage 
to them. They had, so far, heard no good word 
for the mill-owner ; but instead, only hints, and 
sometimes complaints of his oppression and 
tyranny ; and their first meeting with him con- 
vinced them that what they had heard was 
true. 

Following their uncle’s commands, they went 
to the house, and were admitted by a servant, 
and taken past a richly -furnished reception- 
room to the mill-owner’s office. They found 
him seated at a long table, surrounded by pack- 
ages of cotton and linen balls ready for weav- 
ing ; and with him were several weavers, the 
old book-keeper, and two packers. Some of 
the weavers had come for yarn ; others had 
brought home the finished work, which they 
unwrapped with trembling hands, knowing that, 
according to custom, he would find fault with 
it and reduce the price. 

“But I can scarcely support my family when 
I get full price,” said the weaver who first ex- 
hibited his work and met with censure; “if you 
take off part, we will starve.” 

“If what I give you is not enough for poor 


48 


In Fair Silesia. 


work, try some other employer,” replied the 
mill-owner, coldly. “I will pay you no more.” 

“But I would lose time searching for another 
place, and the cost of moving would take what 
little I have. Give me full price for my work, 
and I will be satisfied, even if other mill-owners 
give more.” 

“Other employers can afford to give more, 
because they have modern machinery, which 
saves them from employing so many hands. 
You ought to thank me for keeping my old 
machinery, and thus giving employment to 
weavers, instead of finding fault with me for 
reducing your wages for faulty work. Now go; 
I have said what I mean, and I mean what I 
say.” 

“Well,” said one of the weavers to another, 
as they passed out, “ what can we do but stay 
with him? We are not able to leave him to 
find another place.” 

In the meantime Herr Laudermann had 
turned to the children, and was, as it appeared, 
satisfied with his first sight of them. 

“You are Buckert’s sister’s children, he tells 
me,” he remarked. “Our coachman welcomed 


49 


Visit to the Proprietor . 

you with his carriage -whip. That should be a 
warning to you not to trespass upon other peo- 
ple’s property. You write a tolerable hand,” 
continued he, turning to Joseph, “and if you 
continue to improve, you may some day sit at 
this desk as my secretary.” 

The eyes of the boy brightened, and he 
turned to Helena, with the hope that there 
would be also a good word for her. 

“Ruckert tells me that you have learned to 
attend to the spinning-machine,” said Herr 
Laudermann to her. “So long as you do well 
you will be permitted to stay ; when you grow 
careless you will have to go back to Scheller- 
haus.” 

He waved his hand toward the door, and the 
children, taking the hint, left the office and re- 
turned with light hearts to their work. 

“There is one thing I would like to know,” 
said Joseph, when they had reached the en- 
trance to the factory, “and that is, when we 
are to start to school. Uncle doesn’t say any- 
thing about it, and if he doesn’t mention it 
soon, I will ask him.” 

“Oh, no,” replied Helena, anxiously; “I have 
4 


50 


In Fair Silesia. 


seen enough of him to know that he does not 
like to be questioned. Let us wait and see 
what he will do about it. 

The week drew on to the end, and nothing 
was said, and the children were glad that their 
mother did not know that they were learning 
nothing, one of her chief reasons for being will- 
ing to have them leave her having been the 
hope of their being sent to a good school. 

On Monday morning of the next week their 
uncle mentioned the subject while they were at 
breakfast. 

“Now that it has been settled that you are 
to stay here, you must go to school ; and when 
you hear the factory whistle at six o’clock this 
evening, you must go to room number 17, where 
there will be a teacher to hear your lessons.” 

“What are we to do for books, uncle?” said 
Lenchen, briskly. 

“You have no need to concern yourself about 
that part of it,” said he, frowningly ; “ the 
teacher will attend to that.” 

“I am sorry that the teaching is to be done 
here instead of at school,” said Joseph, when 
alone with his sister. “It won’t seem like go- 


Visit' to the Proprietor. 51 

ing to school if we have to learn in this old 
factory.” 

“ But we will see Herr Krown ; I am glad of 
that,” said Helena. 

Work was but play that day, they looked 
forward to the evening with so much pleasure ; 
and when the whistle sounded, they hurried to 
number 17, where, with about forty others, all 
factory children, they awaited the appearance 
of the teacher. 

A quarter of an hour passed, and the children 
laughed and romped, the noise getting pretty 
loud, when a tall, thin young man entered and 
commanded silence. He swung a rattan in his 
hand, and looked as if it would be a great 
pleasure to use it. 

Silence immediately followed, and he gave 
out a verse for them to sing, after which he 
commenced the instruction for the evening. 

To the great disappointment of the Eckhardt 
children, they found that the teacher was not 
Schoolmaster Krown, but the tutor of the mill- 
owner’s children, Herr Lehman by name. He 
was not at all amiable, and the impatience he 
was obliged to restrain when teaching Adolph 


52 


In Fair Silesia. 


and Toska was indulged freely with the factory 
children. He was weary from his day of teach- 
ing, and they from their long hours of work, 
some of the younger children dropping asleep 
within reach of the teacher’s long arm and 
heavy hand. At eight o’clock it was a joy to 
all to hear the bell which gave them liberty, 
and they lost no time in hurrying off to their 
homes and their beds. 

Joseph and Helena appreciated this chance 
for learning, as well as the other advantages 
that they had never before enjoyed. They had 
better food, and more of it, and their uncle kept 
them comfortably clothed, though grumbling 
over the expense of their keep, and threaten- 
ing, wdth every little offence, to send them back 
to Schellerhaus. No matter how good and 
obedient they were, they could not win a kind 
word from him, nor any evidence that he looked 
upon them in any light except as a burden. 

They missed the free, out-of-door life that 
they had led in their mountain home ; they 
longed for the woods, the streams, the wild 
berries and nuts ; and, more than all, they 
longed for the presence of their kind, loving 
mother. 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE REVOLVING SHAFT. 

J OSEPH and Lenchen liad been six weeks in 
Reichenstein, and in all that time they had 
not had one holiday or part of a one, but 
worked steadily as any of the other employees 
of the factory. 

One day they were taking their mid-day meal 
under the shade of the large tree back of the 
factory, when they heard the cry, “Juniper 
berries! juniper berries! blackberries! black- 
berries!” and their cheeks flushed and eyes 
sparkled with joyous surprise. 

“It is Barenklein!” cried Joseph in delight, 
as he sprang to his feet, come Lenchen, set your 
cup down and let us run to meet him.” 

He did not have to repeat the request, Helena 
sprang up as quickly as her brother had done, 
but housewifely instinct prompted her to care 
for the dishes, they must be put in a safe place 
before going. 

“Oh! stick them under this bush,” said 

Joseph, ‘ Nobody would know they were there.’* 
53 


54 


In Fair /Silesia. 


Lenchen secreted them, then hand in hand 
they flew around the corner of the factory and 
into the road, where they met a short, stout 
man with a push-cart. He was about opening 
his mouth for further calling of his wares, when 
his eyes lighted upon the children. 

“ Oh, Barenklein!” they cried in joy at see- 
ing one from their loved Schellerhaus, “we 
heard your voice and ran to see you.” 

“What, are you there, you mountain chicks? ” 
he said, halting and extending to each a hand, 
“ I told your mother that I would plan to reach 
Reiclienstein about noon, and if you were not 
at work you would hear my voice and run 
to meet me ; and you see Barenklein was 
right.” 

“Our mother, Barenklein, is she well, and 
did she send her love to us ? ” 

“ She is well, and her only grief is, that you 
are away from her. She sends her best love 
and greetings, and will weep for joy when I tell 
how well you are looking. But first I must 
give you some berries, here is a double handful 
of both kinds for each of you, now eat, they 
are ripe and fresh.” 


55 


The Revolving Shaft. 

‘‘And taste so good,” said the children, as 
they ate ; thanking Barenklein for his thought- 
fulness. 

“ But how is your uncle, or, as we used to 
name him in Schellerhaus, the 1 growler ’ ; I want 
to give him my greetings.” 

“It will be some time before you get return 
greetings,” remarked Joseph, “ we have been 
here two months and hav’nt heard him say 
anything kind yet.” 

“But he may have a kind heart,” suggested 
Barenklein, “remember the chestnut; it comes 
in a rough burr, yet is good. I must see him.” 

“This is the time for his noon sleep,” said 
Helena, “he won’t see anybody until one 
o’clock,” 

“ Good ! ” commented Barenklein, “ I will go 
on to the village, sell my wares, and come back 
this way. I must get something to eat in Rich- 
enstein.” 

“ There is some gruel and bread left of our 
dinner, would you eat it, Barenklein ? ” said the 
girl, “ if you will I can go and bring it to you.” 

“ Yes, certainly I will eat it, why not ? ” and 
Lenchen ran off, glad that even this little ser- 


56 


In Fair Silesia. 


vice could be rendered to one who had brought 
her good news from home. 

“Ha! that is good!” said the little man. “I 
will tell your mother what a feast I had of 
white bread. Did not I say that the chestnut 
is better than it appears ? Here is the cup 
and spoon, Lenchen, thanks for the kindness, 
the gruel has refreshed me wonderfully. Now 
good-bye, until I see you again.” 

“ Don’t let us tell Barenklein of our bothers 
here, he might tell mother and it would worry 
her,” said Lenchen, as the berry-seller trudged 
away. 

“Oh! mother would not worry too much,” 
replied Joseph, “ she always said that each one 
o; us must have trouble upon earth or we would 
not try to have treasures laid up in heaven.” 

“ But we were with her then, and could talk 
to her, now we are away, and if she heard of 
any trouble we have she would think it worse 
than what it is.” 

“Oh, well, I didn’t say much; not half as 
much as I think,” said Joseph, nonchalantly. 

“One thing I surely will not tell Barenklein, 
and that is, that my coming put poor Bose out 


The Revolving Shaft. 57 

of her place ; it would trouble mother if she 
knew it.” 

“Uncle will be sorry if she doesn’t get to 
hear it, he would rather we would all feel badly 
about it ; he could have found another place 
for Rose only for that.” 

“Mother would say that we ought not to 
judge people harshly, but consider their good 
properties. Uncle gives us enough to eat and 
to wear, and we ought not to find fault with 
him for what he cannot, maybe, help.” 

The whistle sounded, and the children re- 
turned to their work, cheered with the prospect 
of again seeing Barenklein, and the afternoon 
passed happily away. 

Toward evening he came, cheerier than ever; 
he had sold out his berries with the exception 
of two baskets which he gave the children. 

Ruckert welcomed him more cordially than 
they had ever seen him welcome any one, and 
set before him coffee, fresh semmels and cheese, 
and to the delight of Joseph and Helena, allowed 
them to share the feast, and after it was finished, 
he took the visitor over the great factory, and 
the children accompanied them. 


58 In lair Silesia. 

The simple mountaineer was astonished that 
so many rollers and wheels and shafts could 
be set and kept in motion by such a light thing 
as steam, and that one man could manage the 
monster engine was too wonderful for belief. 

In looking upon this wonder, Barenklein forgot 
*his favorite proverb that “ There is nothing new 
under the sun,” and was thoroughly frightened 
and almost deafened when at six o’clock it gave 
a shrill whistle to announce that the day’s work 
was done. This surprise was followed by that 
of hearing the rush of feet through the long 
corriders and down the steps, all the many 
work-people hurrying from the factory to their 
homes. This was followed by such stillness 
that Barenklein could not help thinking of that 
of a human being after the heart had ceased 
to beat and the blood to course through the 
veins. 

Pale and trembling, he stood looking at the 
steam-engine, which, he felt, might destroy him 
at any moment. 

“You are in no danger,” said Buckert, amused 
at the fear of the poor little man; “the steam 
is shut off.” 


59 


The Revolving Shaft. 

“Then there must be danger when the steam 
is on,” argued Barenklein. 

“Not unless it bursts, which sometimes hap- 
pens, in which case it blows a factory to atoms.” 

“And is there no other danger?” 

“Not unless one is careless, and allows him- 
self to be caught in the revolving shafts or the 
wheels. Folks must be careful and watch what 
they are doing.” 

“Wonderful! wonderful!” commented Bar- 
enklein, as they left the engine-room. “Who 
would imagine that a little thing like steam 
could do so much ? I would not be surprised 
to hear that it could be made to cut down trees 
from our mountains, and to pick blackberries.” 

“Yes,” remarked Ruckert, with his sneering 
smile, “by the time it reaches Schellerhaus I 
would not wonder if it could be trained to do 
these things.” 

The sarcasm was lost upon the innocent- 
minded and amiable fruit-seller ; he took it all 
in good faith. 

“It is a wonderful and useful thing, this 
steam,” replied he, “but God grant that it may 
never reach us ! We want to live as free from 


60 


In Fair Silesia. 


danger as we can. And now I must go, and I 
thank you heartily for explaining all this to 
me.” 

They left the factory, and Barenklein bade 
them all a cheery farewell, and they heard him 
whistling merrily as he walked briskly away 
upon his long journey. 

The next morning Ruckert and the children 
were in his office, and, having finished break- 
fast, were waiting for the signal which called 
the work-people to their daily labor. 

“I lost my handkerchief yesterday while go- 
ing over the factory with Barenklein,” said 
Ruckert; “go, Helena, and search for it; go 
first to the engine-room ; that was where we 
were standing last. Hurry; the whistle has 
blown, and the machinery has started. You 
must be in your place at the spindles.” 

The girl ran away, and had been gone but a 
few minutes when there was a trembling of the 
building, caused by the sudden stopping of the 
machinery, followed by a shrill cry and the 
rush of many feet. 

“Something has happened,” cried Ruckert, 
running to the door. “Let no one come into 


The Revolving Shaft. 61 

the -office, and don’t leave it for a moment until 
I come back.” 

The engine had resumed its work, and the 
machinery was in motion, yet there was much 
confusion and excitement, which alarmed Jo- 
seph so much that he could scarcely stay in 
the office, and only the fear of angering his 
uncle kept him from rushing out in search of 
Lenchen. 

At length he heard the spinning-master’s 
step in the corridor ; he came in, and Joseph’s 
heart grew painfully agitated at seeing him 
pale and excited. 

“I have wished a hundred times that I had 
sent you children back to the mountains, and 
now I wish that you were both ten feet under 
ground, that I might not be bothered any 
longer by you,” said he. “What are you star- 
ing at, boy? Can’t you understand that the 
long plait of hair your sister wears has been 
caught in the revolving shaft, and that it has 
twisted off part of her scalp ? If she had worn 
her hair cropped off close to her head, it would 
not have happened.” 

Joseph felt the blood chill in his veins ; he 


62 


In Fair Silesia . 


could not move from the spot where he 
stood. 

“What will Herr Laudermann say to this?” 
continued Buckert, excitedly. “ Of course the 
report will go over the whole country that some 
one was hurt in our factory.” And he walked 
hurriedly up and down the office-floor, as 
though beside himself with anxiety or with 
anger. 

The measured tread of feet outside was fol- 
lowed by the opening of the office-door, and 
two men came in, bearing the insensible form 
of Helena. 

4 4 Don’t put her on the sofa until I spread a 
blanket over it,” exclaimed Buckert, angrily; 
44 the blood will ruin the cover of it.” 

“Shame on you, Buckert,” said one of the 
men, “to be thinking of saving your sofa when 
it is your own sister’s child that is hurt ! ” 

Joseph, though almost bereft of his senses 
from fright and grief, understood the cause of 
the delay. Buckert had removed the pillow, 
and the boy took off his jacket, and, folding it, 
put it in place, and Lenchen was laid upon the 
sofa. 


The Revolving Shaft. 63 

One of the workmen had hurried to Reichen- 
stein for a physician as soon as the accident 
happened, and as soon as possible he returned 
with Dr. Bruner. 

“ I will not undertake this case without help,” 
said he, after examining the wound. “There is 
a surgeon in Warmbrunn ; he is the one to ap- 
ply to ; some one must be sent immediately for 
him.” 

At this moment Ruckert noticed that a crowd 
of the factory hands had gathered about the 
office-door, and his anger blazed out with a 
suddenness that startled them : 

“What are you idling here for? Go back to 
your work instantly ! ” 

The men hurried to their places, and Ruck- 
ert went out to send a messenger to Warm- 
brunn, while Joseph assisted the doctor in ap- 
plying remedies to stop the flow of blood. 

“Oh, Lenchen,” thought he, “our uncle has 
no more pity for you than had the terrible ma- 
chinery. How our mother would weep over 
you were she here!” 

The doctor left the room for a few minutes, 
hoping to find Ruckert and to learn whether 


64 


In Fair Silesia. 


the messenger had gone to Warmbrunn, and 
Joseph remained beside his, sister, tearfully 
gazing at her pale face. 

“If Barenklein had not come, uncle would 
not have lost his handkerchief, and Lenchen 
would not have been sent to search for it,” 
thought he. “ Oh, I hope that God will let her 
live; I will ask him;” and, sinking upon his 
knees, the boy offered up his simple, earnest 
prayer. 

After a time the doctor returned to the office, 
and, to Joseph’s great relief, the surgeon from 
Warmbrunn, the good Dr. Keller, soon after 
made his appearance. 

“It is a serious case,” commented he after 
examining the wound, “the American Indian 
could not have removed the scalp more effec- 
tually than the machinery has done. Strong 
men have died under such an ordeal, and one 
cannot expect much of a weak girl, but we will 
do the best we can and leave the result with 
God.” 

It appeared to Joseph when evening came 
that weeks had elapsed since the accident. He 
had not eaten, or drank, or rested the whole 


65 


The Revolving Shaft. 

day, but bad run at the bidding of the doctor 
or his uncle without thought of fatigue ; all had 
seemed to him like a troubled dream. 

The shock to Helena’s system had been so 
great that her life was in great danger, and 
Joseph resolved to sit by her all night, hoping she 
would return to consciousness and speak to him. 

Late in the evening his uncle returned from 
the beer saloon, and coming to the office, he 
stood by the couch looking down at her. 

“ If she is not better to-morrow she must go 
from here,” said he, roughly, “ my office cannot 
be turned into a hospital,” and taking the lamp 
he went to another room, leaving Joseph in 
darkness. 

The boy was not afraid, he only dreaded 
that he might not be able to keep the bandage 
about Helena’s head moist with the fluid the 
surgeon had left, but even when hearing by the 
breathing of Ruckert that he was in a deep 
sleep, he did not dare to bring the lamp, fear- 
ing he might waken. 

The long night passed, and at length Helena 
stirred and whispered a few words. Joseph 
sprang to his feet, leaned over the cot and 
5 


66 


In Fair Silesia. 


listened. To his great distress he found that 
her mind was wandering ; he almost preferred 
her being unconscious. 

Now she stood on a fearful precipice, and 
emplored Joseph to save her from falling, 
again she was lost in the woods, and in mortal 
dread of wild animals. “Fly, Barenklein ! ” 
she cried, “ the engine is about to burst, we 
will all be killed.” 

In vain Joseph strove to soothe her fears, 
her voice grew louder and more plaintive, and 
at length her uncle opened the door and com- 
manded silence. 

“ How can any one sleep in such a bedlam 
as this,” cried he, stormily, “ hush this instant, 
or you will be sorry for it. To-morrow you 
shall both leave here, I will not stand this 
noise another night.” 

The moment his uncle returned to his bed 
Joseph flung himself upon his knees and 
prayed for help in this great trial, and his 
prayer was answered. Helena’s voice dropped 
to a whisper, then was still and she slept ; and 
when daylight came, Joseph’s weary head 
rested upon the arm of the sofa, his face as 
pale as that of his sister. 


CHAPTER VI. 

SCHOOLMASTER KROWN. 

T HE next morning a wagon with a bedding 
of straw drew up before the entrance of 
the factory, the driver stepped out and went to 
the office of Spinning-master Ruckert. 

In a few minutes he emerged, carrying the 
helpless form of Helena, followed by Joseph, 
pale and weeping. He did not see the many 
tear- dimmed eyes gazing at them from the win- 
dows of the factory, nor know that nods and 
words of sympathy and sorrow for the poor 
children passed from one to another of those 
who had no power to help. 

Joseph’s jacket still served for a pillow, and 
as soon as both were in the wagon the driver 
took up the lines, and they went off at a quick 
pace. 

The doors and window-shutters of Herr Lau- 
dermann’s dwelling were closed, but curious 
eyes were peeping out, noticing the effect which 
the heartless conduct of mill-owner and man- 
ager was having upon the lookers-on. 

67 


68 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Whom have you there, Binder?” inquired 
a clear, manly voice, as they neared Beichen- 
stein, and the driver halted to reply : 

“ It is the little girl who was hurt yesterday 
by the machinery, Herr Schoolmaster.” 

“Why, I heard that she was badly hurt; cer- 
tainly the jolting over the rough road will be 
injurious.” 

Binder shrugged his shoulders, but made no 
reply. 

“Did our good Beichenstein doctor say that 
it was safe to move her ? ” continued Herr 
Krown. 

“He thinks that she will not live, and that 
it will not make much difference whether she is 
moved or not.” 

A chill went to the heart of Joseph at these 
words; he wrung his hands, and tears flowed 
down his pale cheeks. 

“ Where are you taking her ? ” 

“To the surgeon at Warmbrunn; he will tell 
me whether the hospital there, or her mother’s 
house at Schellerhaus, is the best place for her. 
Buckert won’t have her at the factory.” 

“Binder,” said Herr Krown, “my house is 


Schoolmaster Krown. 69 

close by. I cannot see a person in her suffer- 
ing condition jolted in a rough wagon. You 
must halt and leave her with my wife and me.” 

“ I dare not, Herr Schoolmaster. I was told 
to drive to Warmbrunn.” 

“ But you shall, Binder ; do as I tell you, or 
I will report the case to the authorities. Cru- 
elty to children is punishable by law. You shall 
not suffer by obeying my request.” 

“ Then I shall gladly obey, for it is no pleas- 
ant thing to me to hear the sighs of the girl 
and to see the tears of the boy.” 

In a few minutes they reached the school- 
house, and Herr Krown hurried in to tell his 
wife, and to help prepare a place for Lenchen. 
While he was gone several villagers surround- 
ed the wagon, and discussed the situation. 

“The shame of it! that a rich man like Herr 
Laudermann would let this poor child, who was 
hurt in his factory, be taken to the hospital, 
and in a rough mill-wagon ! ” commented one 
of them. 

“And her Uncle Ruckert, what do you think 
of him ? ” questioned another. £ I always heard 
that he was a hard-hearted and ugly-tempered 


70 


In Fair Silesia. 


man, but I did not think that he would be so 
cruel to his sister’s children.” 

“But one cannot expect anything better of 
such a beer-drinker,” said another. “Ruckert 
is scarcely ever entirely sober.” 

At that moment Herr Krown appeared, took 
up Lenchen as tenderly as if she were his own 
child, carried her into his house, and placed 
her upon a comfortable bed in a large, well- 
ventilated room. 

“What am I to do?” thought Joseph, who 
remained in the wagon. “ I dare not go back 
and tell uncle that Helena is in the school- 
master’s house.” 

“ No,” replied one of the men, “ Ruckert 
hates Herr Krown, because the schoolmaster 
believes it to be his duty to warn him against 
strong drink, and Ruckert is too ill-tempered 
to take the advice kindly. We will ask Herr 
Krown if you may stay.” 

“Oh, please do!” said Joseph, eagerly, “I 
cannot go back to the factory and leave her 
here.” 

“ Where is her brother ? ” said Herr Krown, 
coming to the door and looking toward the 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


71 


wagon. “ Come, boy, I expect you to help us 
take care of her.” 

“Oh, thank you! thank you! dear Herr 
Krown. I will stay by her night and day,” 
cried the boy, joyfully. 

“Then go straight up to the sick room, I 
have some matters to attend to out here. 
Which of you,” continued he, turning to the 
villagers, “will, for money and thanks, go to 
Warmbrunn and tell Surgeon Keller that I 
wish him to come here to see the sick girl. 
I would go willingly, but cannot leave my 
school.” 

“ I will go,” replied a young weaver, step- 
ping forward; “you and the Frau Schoolmis- 
tress were kind to my mother when she was ill, 
and Surgeon Keller pulled an aching tooth for 
me and would not charge me anything. I will 
go willingly.” 

“ Bravo, good Hoffman ! ” answered the 
schoolmaster, “ I thank you beforehand for 
your great service. Tell Dr. Keller for me 
that I hope he will come as soon as possible, 
and do what he can for the poor child.” 

“Keller is the greatest doctor in Warm- 


72 


In Fair Silesia. 


brunn,” remarked an old man in the crowd, 
“he is rich, too, and has his fine carriages and 
horses ; he will charge a pretty penny if he un- 
dertakes the case.” 

“That will be all right, Father Armdt,” re- 
plied the schoolmaster, cheerfully, “if he cures 
her he shall, and ought to be well paid.” 

Hoffman had during this time set off to 
Warmbrunn, and as soon as the wagon turned 
to go back to the factory, Herr Krown went 
into the house and up to the room where 
Joseph sat beside his sister, then descended to 
the school-room where the children had already 
gathered. 

With light step Frau Krown passed to and 
fro arranging the sick room, and speaking 
cheery words to Joseph. 

In less than an hour the roll of wheels was 
heard, and Doctor Keller’s carriage stood be- 
fore the door, Hoffman being on the box with 
the driver. He had fortunately met the sur- 
geon, who was on his way to see a patient 
beyond Reichenstein, which accounted for the 
prompt response to the call. Doctor Keller 
was not only a skillful physician and surgeon, 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


73 


but a cheery, kind-hearted man, and had a 
hope of Lenchen’s recovery, which he was glad 
to impart to Frau Krown and Joseph, and pre- 
scribing such remedies as the case demanded, 
he left, promising to give the child attention so 
long as his visits were needed. 

Frau Krown stayed long enough in the room 
to see that Joseph was attentive to every want 
of his sister, and feeling satisfied that she would 
not be neglected, returned to her household du- 
ties, going softly down stairs that Helena, who 
was enjoying a sweet sleep, might not be dis- 
turbed. In an hour or so she returned, and 
found Joseph’s weary head upon the pillow, 
also in a deep sleep. She had finished her 
morning work, and taking some sewing from a 
basket, she sat beside them, nothing disturbing 
the silence but the drowsy hum of the children’s 
voices in the room below, and the ticking of 
the clock in the hall. 

The doctor’s words and manner had comfort- 
ed Joseph, and his spirits rose in spite of his 
weariness and the past night’s sleepless anxiety. 

When Frau Krown had gone below, he had 
knelt by his sister’s bedside and thanked his 


74 


In Fair Silesia. 


Father in heaven for the great blessing of hope* 
and prayed that it might be realized. 

In a few minutes he had heard the voices of 
the children singing a morning hymn, “ God’s 
ways are best,” which brought tears to his eyes, 
for it was one which he and Lenchen had often 
sung with their mother in their mountain 
home. 

“ God’s ways are best.” The sweet words 
seemed to have a new meaning to them ; he 
believed that even this terrible accident which 
had befallen Helena must have some good in it. 

When he awoke he looked about him with a 
surprised glance. Instead of the dim, cobwebby 
den in which he slept in the factory after the 
first night of his arrival, he was in a light, clean 
room; Lenchen was on a white-draped bed; 
and the pleasant, kind face of the schoolmas- 
ter’s wife was a marked contrast to that of his 
uncle. 

“ Have I been long asleep ? ” asked he, anxi- 
ously. “ Poor Lenchen ! I should not have 
forgotten her.” 

“ You were worn out, poor boy,” said Frau 
Krown. “ I was glad to see you sleeping so 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


75 


soundly that some one could have stolen you 
without your knowing it.” 

“ It was so sweet and still here, and the dear 
Herr Doctor thought that Lenchen would live, 
and the children sang ‘God’s ways are best,’ 
and I felt so happy that I slept without know- 
ing it.” 

“ Helena is better than when Doctor Keller 
came,” said Frau Krown. “She has but little 
fever now ; the medicine that he left has done 
her good. The good sleep that she is having 
is a great blessing ; she will feel much re- 
freshed.” 

“As I do ; sleep has made me like another 
person.” 

“ Or like yourself,” smiled Frau Krown. 
“ Yes, sleep is one of the greatest of blessings, 
as is also food, and I know that you must be 
hungry. Go down to the dining-room,” con- 
tinued she, in the low tone that they both used 
that Lenchen might not be disturbed ; “ Fritz 
will give you the dinner that I kept warm for 
you. It is long past dinner-time ; the afternoon 
session is nearly over.” 

“You are so good to us,” said Joseph, as he 


76 


In Fair Silesia. 


rose to obey; “mother would cry for joy if she 
knew that we had found such good friends as 
you and Schoolmaster Krown.” 

“Do you think that your uncle will write 
and tell her of the accident to your sister?” 

“No, I am sure that he won’t take the trou- 
ble, nor be willing to pay the postage on a let- 
ter. He was angry that Binder would take his 
bed to put in the wagon for Lenchen, and he 
will be angrier when he finds that the blanket 
did not go back with the bed.” 

“ I have rolled it up to send to him ; you can 
take it to him this evening.” 

This was not welcome news to Joseph. He 
dreaded meeting his uncle, knowing his dislike 
to Schoolmaster Krown ; but there was nothing 
to do but to go, and he tried to forget it while 
he went down to dinner. 

That evening, after school was dismissed, 
Herr Krown held a consultation with his wife 
in regard to the wounded girl and ways and 
means of providing her with help to recover. 

Herr Krown was a popular and efficient 
teacher, faithful in all his duties, and provided 
for his family to the best of his ability. But 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


77 


his only support was his school, which did not 
allow him much over and above his family ex- 
penses, so that he could not give as much aid 
to the needy as he wished to do. He had 
given Lenchen the quiet and comfort of a good 
room, and his 'wife was giving her faithful at- 
tendance. Moreover, he had employed a skill- 
ful physician, whom he felt bound by honor to 
pay for service rendered ; but further than that 
his means would not allow him to go, and lie 
knew that she needed medicines, and delicacies 
to tempt her appetite when she should be able 
to take more solid nourishment than at present, 
which he was not able to obtain. He also knew 
that there were benevolent hearts that would 
quickly respond were the need made known ; 
and he resolved to do what he could to give 
the public the privilege of helping. 

He knew also that there was no surer and 
better way to let the public know the need than 
through the medium of printer’s ink. He re- 
solved to write a brief, truthful account of the 
accident, to speak of the suffering endured by 
the little girl, and to ask for contributions for 
her benefit, promising that whatever was given 


78 


In Fair Silesia. 


should be faithfully devoted to her use. This 
notice he sent to the editor of a daily paper, 
Joseph taking the letter to post on his way to 
the factory; and this being done, he could only 
pray that it would result in bringing necessary 
comforts for the girl under their care. 

As Joseph passed the garden belonging to 
the mill-owner, he heard the sound of merry 
voices and of sweet music. Peeping over the 
hedge, he saw gaily-dressed children prome- 
nading the paths and playing games under the 
trees, while near the house was a long table, 
which was being filled by busy servants with 
cakes, fruit, and other refreshments. 

Joseph remembered that it was Adoljffi’s 
birthday, and the gaiety was very attractive to 
the boy outside. He would have liked to lin- 
ger, but, remembering his errand, he went on 
to the factory, and, glancing up, saw his uncle 
seated by the office-window which looked to- 
ward the garden. Joseph did not halt, but 
passed in, and on up to the door, where he 
gave a timid knock, but receiving no response, 
he opened it and went in. 

Puckert did not turn his head, but continued 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


79 


gazing from the window. Joseph was glad of 
this, for he expected sharp words and angry 
threats for daring to go to Schoolmaster Krown, 
and it was a great relief to him that his uncle 
appeared entirely unaware of his entrance. 

He laid the blanket on the sofa and passed 
out and down the stairs with light heart and 
step, and had passed through the factory door 
when he felt something pelting him, and look- 
ing up, he saw that his uncle had, after all, been 
conscious of his visit. 

During the carnivals in Italy, little white 
balls are thrown in sport; but with Spinning- 
master Ruckert the case was different, for the 
balls were black, being nothing more nor less 
than the blackberries given the children by 
Barenklein, and were thrown in anger, and not 
in sport. 

Joseph looked at the berries dropping thick 
and fast into the dust, and thought of the poor 
berry-seller’s weariness as he roamed over the 
mountains in search of them, but knowing it 
was of no use to try to save them except by 
hurrying away as quickly as possible, he started 
off at a run without looking back. 


80 


In Fair Silesia . 


When he reached the mill-owner’s garden he 
found several of the factory people collected by 
the hedge watching the sports within, their 
hearts filled with envious bitterness at the gay 
doings. Some of them controlled their feel- 
ings and made no comment, contenting them- 
selves with looking at the fire-works, and the 
tables filled with dainties which they could 
never hope to enjoy. 

“All this expensive pleasure bought with our 
toil,” muttered one. 

“Herr Laudermann is like the rich man in 
the Bible who fares sumptuously every day, 
while we are like the poor Lazarus who must 
eat the crumbs which fall from his table,” said 
another. 

“ He is a hard, cruel taskmaster, and if trou- 
ble comes upon him he does not deserve that 
anybody should pity him,” said a third, “he 
never knew what it was to toil for his bread 
and get little pay.” 

Had Joseph not been so anxious about Len- 
chen he would have loved to linger, and watch 
the games and listen to the music, but the 
thought of her, helpless upon a sick bed, urged 


Schoolmaster Krown . 


81 


him away, and he hurried toward the village. 
He had reached the extreme end of the garden 
when he heard a voice, and, going close to the 
hedge, saw Toska Laudermann looking through 
an opening in it, her cheeks flushed by her 
quick walk to see and speak to him. 

“Are you the brother of the girl who got 
hurt in our factory yesterday?” inquired 
she. 

“Yes, it is my sister, Helena, who was hurt.” 

“Is she living? Is there any hope that she 
will live ? ” 

“Yes, she is living, and the doctor hopes she 
will get well.” 

“ Is it 'true that the dear schoolmaster and 
Frau Krown took her to their house, and let 
you stay there with her ? ” 

“Yes, and more than that, he sent for Doctor 
Keller, in Warmbrunn, and will pay him out of 
his own pocket.” 

“Oh, I am so glad; now I can enjoy the 
party better. Tell Herr Krown and Frau 
Krown that I thank them, and mamma and 
Adolph and I will pray to God to bless 
them.” 


6 


82 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Toska! Toska! where are you?” cried a 
voice from the garden. 

Toska made no response, but reaching 
through the hedge she put a small package 
in Joseph’s hand. 

“Take this to your sister,” said she, “and 
please give her my love, and tell her I am 
sorry she was hurt, and hope she will soon be 
well.” 

She ran away and Joseph walked on, open- 
ing the package as he went. He found a large 
slice of sponge cake wrapped by itself, and in 
an envelope were three pieces of silver. 

“Toska is good and kind,” thought he, grate- 
fully, “although with rich people’s children, 
she does not forget the poor one that was hurt. 
I will give these things to Frau Krown, she will 
know best what to do with them.” 

"When he reached the school-house he told 
Frau Krown Toska’s message, and gave her the 
package. 

“ Toska is a good child, and will grow to be 
a useful Christian woman,” said she. “Len- 
chen would not be allowed to eat the cake even 
if she could do so; you can have it, and the 


Schoolmaster Krown. 


83 


money I will put away until such time as she 
can use it.” 

That night Frau Krown watched at the bed- 
side of Helena, allowing Joseph to have a full 
night’s sleep, which refreshed him as nothing 
else could have done. 


CHAPTER VII. 


FRAU ECKHARDTS VISIT. 

OCTOR KELLER came the next day, as 



1 / he promised, and was glad to see favor- 

able symptoms in the condition of his patient. 

“If she continues in this way she will be out 
of danger in a few days,” said he. “All that 
she needs is good nursing, and she will get it 


here.” 


“We will do the best that we can for her,” 
said Frau Krown, and these words bore a sweet 
assurance to Joseph, as he compared his sis- 
ter’s surroundings with the dingy den that she 
had occupied at the factory. 

The seed sown by Herr Krown in the daily 
newspaper bore fruit, for on the third day from 
that on which the notice appeared, three letters 
were brought by the postman to the school- 
house, all containing money for Lenchen, to- 
gether with words of sympathy for her afflic- 
tion and good wishes for her recovery. 

Every day, for some time after, brought one 


84 


Frau Eckhardt's Visit. 


85 


or more letters from the high and the lowly, 
the rich and the poor; sometimes the mite of 
some person who had been touched with com- 
passion for one of these little ones ; sometimes 
a substantial gift, the donor specifying that it 
was for a comfortable chair or some other lux- 
ury for the invalid. 

“See, dear Lenchen,” said the schoolmaster 
to his wife, “how these gifts prove that the 
hearts of people are ever ready to respond to 
the call of need from a fellow-creature. When 
this poor child recovers sufficiently to realize 
what has been done for her, her heart will be 
cheered that she has such friends as these 
words of sympathy prove, besides the real bene- 
fit to her that their gifts will be in many ways.” 

“Toska is outside, and wishes to see Len- 
chen,” said Fritz, coming in at that moment. 
“Shall I tell her that she may come in? ” 

“Yes,” replied Herr Krown; “mother wishes 
to ask her about the money that she sent by 
Joseph.” 

The schoolmaster and his wife welcomed her 
cordially, and spoke cheerfully, for they saw 
that she could scarcely restrain her tears. 


86 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Dear Toska,” said Frau Krown, “do your 
parents know that you came here, and that you 
sent money to Helena?” 

Toska reddened, and her eyes fell under the 
gaze of the others. 

“No,” she said, “no one knows it but my- 
self.” 

“Then it would not be right for us to use it.” 

“Oh, yes, you can use it; it is my pocket- 
money, which I can use as I please.” 

“I believe you, and I thank you for it, as I 
know that Lenchen will when she is able to 
speak to you ; but I hope that you will not ob- 
ject to my asking your father if he is willing 
for us to receive it,” remarked the schoolmaster. 

“Oh, no; you can ask him, and I know that 
he will tell you that my allowance is my own, 
and that he never questions me as to what I 
do with it.” 

“It was very good and kind in you to re- 
member the poor child,” remarked Frau Krown, 
kindly. 

“I felt so sorry for her,” replied Toska, her 
eyes filling with tears. “Will she get well 
soon ? ” 


Frau Eckhardfs Visit. 


87 


“She is in God’s hands, and we cannot tell; 
but we know that what he wills is right.” 

“May I see her?” 

“The doctor does not allow visitors, but she 
is sleeping now, and, if you will be satisfied to 
see her, but will not disturb her by speaking, 
you can go to her bedside. Come, I will go 
with you.” 

Toska followed Frau Krown to the room 
above, where Joseph was sitting by his sister, 
and tears fell from her eyes as she looked at 
the white cheeks and the sunken eyes, and the 
head bound up with a white cloth. To her it 
seemed impossible for Helena to get well ; and, 
fearing that the weeping which she could not 
restrain would disturb her, she quickly left the 
room. 

Herr Krown and his wife believed implicitly 
in what Toska had told them ; nevertheless, in 
this instance, they were not satisfied to accept 
the money without the father’s knowledge ; so 
the schoolmaster wrote a line that evening to 
him. 

To his surprise, he received the next day a 
letter sent by a messenger, saying that he was 


88 


In Fair Silesia. 


perfectly willing that his daughter should have 
used her money in that way, and to it he added 
a gift of ten dollars. 

This unexpected present for Lenchen was 
gratefully received, and the schoolmaster and 
his wife censured themselves that they had fos- 
tered a harsh opinion of the factory-owner, not 
knowing, in the simplicity of their hearts, that 
the list of contributors to the fund for Helena 
had attracted people’s attention to the fact that 
Herr Laudermann had given nothing, and that 
he was compelled, out of deference to public 
opinion, to make this show of liberality, much 
against his will. 

Several days passed, and Lenchen, though 
apparently suffering less pain, was feverish and 
delirious at times, and was not yet out of dan- 
ger. Sometimes for hours together she would 
remain in a partly unconscious state which was 
not sleep, and all were very anxious, fearing that 
she would never be as she once was ; and they 
longed to hear a word that would show that 
her mind was clear, and that she recognized 
them. 

One evening she aroused from a deep sleep, 


Frau Eckhardfs Visit. 89 

and turned her eyes toward the good Krowns 
and Joseph. 

“I am thirsty; please give me some water,” 
said she, in a natural tone of voice. 

Joseph, with a thrill of joy in his heart, went 
down to the well and brought a glass of pure, 
cool water, of which she drank eagerly. 

“It is good, so good!” said she, softly. 

“Do you know me, Lenchen?” asked Jo- 
seph. 

“Yes, certainly; you are my brother,” replied 
she, in a feeble voice. 

“ Have you any pain now ? ” 

“Yes, my head hurts; but I am sleepy; good 
night, Joseph;” and she closed her eyes. 

During this short dialogue the schoolmaster 
and his wife looked at each other with tears of 
joy in their eyes; there was a great change for 
the better ; she was now out of danger. 

Leaving her sleeping sweetly, the three went 
into an adjoining room, where Fritz was study- 
ing his lessons, Herr Krown wishing to count 
the money which had been received in response 
to his notice in the newspaper. 

The little basket containing the letters was 


90 


In lair Silesia. 


taken from the desk, and the money was placed 
upon the table in the order in which the value 
called for, and Herr Krown and Joseph count- 
ed it. 

“Three hundred and seventeen dollars and 
nineteen groschen ; this exceeds by far my ex- 
pectation when I sent the notice. Truly God 
has blessed the effort. My children, you now 
see the power of printed words. A few lines 
brought help and sympathy to the poor child 
from many whom she has never seen, nor will 
see in this world. God wonderfully blessed my 
feeble words.” 

“Father,” said'' Fritz, “of course it was 
through God’s blessing that this money came, 
but I am sure if Joseph or I had written it 
there would not have been a tenth part of this 
money. I heard people say that they could 
not read your words without tears filling their 
eyes.” 

“But I could not write differently; I merely 
told the exact truth, mentioned how and when 
the child was hurt, and asked for contributions 
to provide comforts for her, which I was not 
able to get.” 


Frau Eckhardt’s Visit. 


91 


“And the villagers say that it is because 
people have so much respect for you and con- 
fidence in you that they sent so much,” added 
Fritz, “and won’t everybody be glad to hear 
that she is out of danger ? ” 

“ We will wait until after the doctor’s visit 
to-morrow,” said Herr Krown, “ and if he pro- 
nounces her out of danger I will write to her 
mother and invite her to come and visit Helena, 
and send her money to pay her expenses here 
and back. It is possible that a newspaper con- 
taining my account of the accident might fall 
into her hands, which would give her great 
anxiety.” 

Joseph’s eyes lighted with joy at hearing 
this ; nothing could be such a pleasure to him 
as to see his loved mother. 

“It was by Doctor Keller’s advice that we 
did not send for her before, my dear boy,” said 
Herr Krown, “your mother is a delicate, ner- 
vous woman, and he said it was better for her 
and for Helena that she would not be here. 
When she comes I will consult with her in re- 
gard to Lenchen’s money.” 

The basket was put away carefully, and then 


92 


In Fair Silesia. 


the little family knelt in prayer, then Herr 
Krown and Fritz retired for the night, Frau 
Krown and Joseph watching alternately by the 
sick bed. 

The doctor’s visit the next day gave them all 
great satisfaction, Lenchen was improving, and 
he gave full permission for the mother to come. 
That evening Herr Krown wrote to her, and 
two days after she came from Schellerliaus. 

Frau Krown kept her from the sick-room 
until she was entirely composed, for she wept 
many tears at hearing of the sufferings of her 
loved daughter, and was deeply grateful to the 
kind family who were so good to her children. 

Her visit did Helena good, and although 
there was of necessity but little conversation 
between them, the mere thought of her mother 
being beside her was a comfort. Frau Krown 
was relieved from all night watching, Frau 
Eckhardt sharing Lenchen’s great bed, and 
ready at any moment to wait upon her. Dur- 
ing the day following that of her arrival, she 
visited her brother at the factory, but was met 
with such a storm of reproaches for sending 
her children to him, that she did not repeat 


Erau Eckhardt' s Visit. 


93 


the visit during the two weeks she remained in 
Reichenstein. 

Lenclien’s recovery was slow, but all were 
patient ; and during his mother’s stay, not being 
needed in the sick-room, Joseph went down to 
the school-room, where his time was well em- 
ployed, and when his mother returned to Schel- 
lerhaus, Lenchen had so far recovered that his 
study hours were not interrupted. 

Doctor Keller refused all pay for his services, 
so there was three hundred dollars to Lenchen’s 
credit in the Reichenstein bank, for, upon con- 
sulting with Frau Eckhardt, it was decided that 
it should be placed there to remain, unless 
there was an urgent necessity for the mother 
or the children to use it. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


NEW MACHINERY. 

T HE beautiful summer passed away, then 
the equally beautiful autumn, and win- 
ter had come, the factory people working 
morning and evening by lamp-light. 

The weavers in the cottages did the same, 
and though working early and late, many of 
them scarcely kept their families in the neces- 
saries of life, not owing alone to the moderate 
wages paid by Herr Lauderman, but because 
in many instances more than half their earn- 
ings went into the saloon-keeper’s pockets in- 
stead of those of provision dealers. 

Often these families were out of fuel, and 
the wives and children would have to roam the 
woods for what they could gather. 

There were churches in Reiclienstein, and 
had these weavers and others passed their Sab- 
baths there, they would have been far happier, 
and better fitted for their daily labor. But 
94 


95 


New Machinery . 

they preferred to congregate where beer and 
other strong drinks were sold, and pass the 
time in gossip and games of chance, and stirr- 
ing np their anger and malice against the fac- 
tory owner and others in authority, besides 
squandering their hard earnings in strong 
drink. 

Schoolmaster Krown, after his day’s labor of 
teaching, passed his evenings with his family, 
and to Joseph and Lenchen, as well as his wife 
and children, this was the happiest part of the 
day. But through that winter Frau Krown 
noticed that her husband withdrew from the 
home circle on Saturday evenings, and re- 
mained some time at a saloon which was in 
sight of the school-house. 

Duty to God and the loved ones he had 
given her was the guiding star of Frau Krown’s 
life, and, although it was a painful subject, she 
felt that as a faithful wife she must tell her 
husband her anxious thoughts in regard to it y 
and warn him of the danger he was in. 

She said nothing to her children — Fritz nor 
little Anna — nor to Joseph and Lenchen, nor 
her neighbors; but to her husband, in the se~ 


96 


In Fair Silesia, 


elusion of their own room, she told of the dread 
that oppressed her heart. 

“ I thank you heartily, dear Lenchen,” said 
he, kindly, “and am sorry the subject has given 
you a moment’s uneasiness, and I will explain. 
Suppose I saw the village in flames, would it 
not be right that I should do all I could to ex- 
tinguish them? But would it not be better to 
make all the exertion possible to prevent the 
fire that an evil man is kindling ? It is for this 
purpose I go to weaver Homier’s ale-house on 
Saturday evenings, to plead with him not to 
sell liquor to the weavers and others, and to 
plead with the workmen not to squander their 
hard-earned wages. I would have told you 
where and why I went, but feared you would 
be anxious, knowing that I would get Homier’s 
ill-will. It would be far pleasanter for me to 
stay away, but the duty of doing all I can for 
the good of my fellow-creatures lays upon my 
conscience. If I looked upon myself as a mere 
hireling, I would only concern myself about the 
children under my care so long as they are 
with me during school-hours, then let them go 
their way. But I cannot help thinking of the 


97 ’ 


New Machinery. 

intemperate fathers, the hard-working mothers 
and their needs and privations, and their sad, 
discouraged hearts, and I strive to strike at the 
root of the matter by visiting and pleading with 
the saloon-keepers.” 

These words touched the heart of Frau 
Krown with remorse that she had so mis- 
judged her husband. It removed a care from 
her mind, but another took its place, that of 
dread of Homier’s ill-will. 

On the following Saturday evening, as the 
schoolmaster entered the saloon, he heard Ho- 
mier making a speech to the assembled loung- 
ers, and he halted to listen. 

“It is plainly to be seen,” said the would-be 
orator, “that the fault of our need and poverty 
is to be laid upon the machinery which Herr 
Laudermann has put into his factory. If all 
the work were done by hand, the number em- 
ployed would be doubled, and we would get 
better wages. Then we could have houses and 
lands of our own, and not have to be satisfied 
with the crumbs which fall from our rich em- 
ployer’s table. 

“By having these spinning-machines, and 
7 


98 


In Fair Silesia. 


thus having to employ fewer hands, they can 
afford to sell the linen much cheaper. More 
than that, the employer and the manager can 
put poorer material in the manufacture, and if 
the purchasers in foreign countries find that 
they have been cheated, what does our em- 
ployer care? He has filled his pockets, and 
other people must look out for themselves. 

“ So cotton is mixed in with the linen, and, 
when woven, is stiffened and run through the 
machine which presses the pattern in it, and it 
comes out so smooth and glossy that one could 
take oath that it was linen damask. But let 
the purchaser put it in the wash-tub, and the 
thickness and gloss will be gone, and nothing 
will remain but a flimsy cotton rag. In this 
way our Silesia, which has always been noted 
for its linen trade, loses its good name just to fill 
the purses of such people as our employer.” 

Here the weaver-saloon-keeper paused to 
take breath, and another weaver took up the 
argument. 

“Homier is right!” said he, with a blow of 
his powerful fist upon the table. 

“He is right!” said Herr Krown, stepping 


99 


New Machinery . 

forward; “but what advice does he give you 
for changing the state of affairs ? ” 

“First,” continued Homier, “let all the ma- 
chinery which hackles cotton and flax and 
spins it be thrown overboard, and let the work 
be done by hand. In short, let it be as in the 
old times, which were far better for working- 
men. Particularly, must there be less cotton 
bought, and more flax raised.” 

“Is that the opinion of you all?” inquired 
Herr Krown, looking from one to another. 

“Yes! yes! that is just what we all believe!” 
and again the fists came down upon the table 
with force. “There is no need for inventions; 
let all the work be done by hand, as it was in 
old times.” 

“But suppose that the supply of cotton were 
shut off, how could our army be clothed, to say 
nothing of the greatly increasing population, 
which makes it necessary that material for 
clothing be made faster than in the old times 
of spinning-wheels and weavers’ looms ? It 
would be impossible to raise enough flax for 
the people, and cotton is much cheaper. If 
you could go back to the old times with the 


100 


In Fair Silesia. 


knowledge that you have now, not one of you 
would be satisfied.” 

“But new inventions throw poor working 
people out of employment,” said one of the 
weavers, doggedly. “ How are we to live if 
machinery can do the work of hundreds of hu- 
man beings who have to eat and be clothed ? ” 

“But work could not be done fast enough by 
hand for the great increase of population, and 
there is always opposition to new inventions. 
For instance, the railroads. When they were 
first in use there was much grumbling among 
wagoners, smiths, wheelwrights, harness-mak- 
ers, saddlers, horse-dealers, ostlers, and others ; 
but the railroads were successful and have 
been to everybody’s advantage.” 

“ Since you are so wise, Schoolmaster Krown,” 
said Homier, angrily, “be so kind as to give us 
some useful advice as to how we are to make 
up the loss to us through the use of machinery. 
It is very easy for one who has no trouble to 
gain his daily bread to preach to people who, 
with all their hard toil, can scarcely earn enough 
for their families to eat, and who stand a fair 
chance of losing the means to earn even that.” 


101 


New Machinery. 

“I understand your case exactly,” said Herr 
Krown, mildly, “and it will not be the first time 
that I have told you where the blame rests. 
Doing away with machinery would be of no 
avail, for factories would be started in more 
progressive places, and trade would be taken 
from Silesia. You had better be satisfied with 
small earnings than with none. My advice is, 
that you do not allow yourselves to be soured 
and saddened by useless complaining, and to 
be made miserable through your own misdeeds. 
Give up the self-indulgences which you can do 
without, for it is a sin and a shame that you 
squander for beer and card-playing the money 
that ought to be used in buying bread for your 
wives and children. Thirdly, do not bring up 
all your children to be weavers. It is a misfor- 
tune that you think that the children must fol- 
low in the footsteps of their fathers in this re- 
spect. The occupation is overstocked, and you 
might choose something else for them. And 
lastly, you must remember that ‘ Man shall not 
live by bread alone, but by every word that 
proceedeth out of the mouth of God.’ Also 
this: ‘I have been young, and now am old; 


102 


In Fair Silesia. 


yet have I never seen the righteous forsaken, 
nor his seed begging bread.’ If you would 
only attend service in God’s house, and pass 
your evenings with your families, you would be 
far happier and more prosperous.” 

“Our schoolmaster speaks only as he under- 
stands,” remarked one of the men, in a low 
tone. “If he sat from early morning until late 
at night upon a weaver’s stool, and had his 
good work found fault with in order, that his 
earnings might be cut down, and had to live 
upon oat-cake and potatoes, he would whistle 
a different tune.” 

“We are not beasts of burden,” cried Homier, 
striking his fists upon the table. “It is unjust 
that some people shall have everything and we 
have nothing. What it cost our factory-owner 
to have that birthday party would have kept a 
weaver’s family for a whole year.” 

These words were echoed by others, and, 
amid shrugs and nods, and pounding of fists 
upon the table, Herr Krown left the saloon. 

“I, at least, need not reproach myself for not 
trying to help,” thought he, as he walked slow- 
ly homeward. “A Christian must work and not 


New Machinery. 


103 


weary. He may never reap what he has sown. 
God alone can give the increase. If I have in- 
fluenced even one for good, my work will not 
be in vain.” 

Reports of these meetings of Schoolmaster 
Krown with the weavers reached the ears of 
Ruckert, and he duly reported them to the 
mill-owner. Both men had a bitter dislike to 
Herr Krown, and, knowing this, the factory 
people took keen pleasure in telling them what 
they would dislike to hear. The spinning-mas- 
ter reminded Herr Laudermann that so much 
dissatisfaction among the weavers was not 
known until Herr Krown commenced visiting 
the saloons ; and that there was no doubt that 
he influenced the working people against their 
employers. 

Rather hearing evil than good of his fellow- 
men, Herr Laudermann did not stop to inquire 
into the truth of this charge ; his dislike to the 
schoolmaster greatly increased ; and when Len- 
chen was able to walk out, and Herr Krown 
went with her to thank the mill-owner for the 
gift of ten dollars, they were ordered to leave 
the house. 


104 


In Fair Silesia. 


Helena burst into tears, but became com- 
posed when she found that Herr Krown was 
not disturbed by the rudeness of the factory- 
owner ; and Frau Krown comforted her by re- 
minding her that it is better to suffer injustice 
than to inflict it. 

“We only did what should be expected of 
us, by calling to thank him, as we have done, 
either by letter or personal visit, all who con- 
tributed,” remarked Herr Krown. “That our 
courtesy was not appreciated is no fault of 
ours.” 

His words were not without effect upon Len- 
chen, neither had his counsel been useless in 
regard to the weavers, and there would have 
been, probably, no further trouble, had not a 
new offence arisen, which aroused their anger 
until it culminated in a riot. 

At the beginning of March several freight- 
wagons halted in the village of Keichenstein, 
bound for the factory of Herr Laudermann, 
and containing the different parts of a set of 
machinery for weaving. The news flew like the 
wind from one weaver’s cottage to another, and 
men, women, and children gathered about the 


105 


New Machinery. 

wagons, making threats of vengeance against 
the new invention, which would deprive them 
of employment ; and, had it not been for the 
watchfulness of the drivers, the machinery 
would have been demolished. The wagons 
were driven hurriedly away, and the machinery 
was placed safely in the factory. 

But the tumult increased in the village, for 
the men, instead of returning to their work, re- 
mained talking and inflaming the anger of each 
other, hints being cast abroad that all that re- 
mained for them to do was to attack the fac- 
tory and to destroy the machinery ; but as no 
one, in that stage of the affair, offered to be 
leader, no plans were made ; instead, they went 
to the different saloons, where they talked and 
threatened, and drank beer until what money 
they had was gone, and they could get no more. 

Schoolmaster Krown was very anxious over 
this excitement, dreading an insurrection among 
the weavers ; and, putting aside the thought 
that he had been told to leave the house of 
Herr Laudermann, he went there that evening 
to warn the mill-owner of his danger, that he 
might be on his guard. 


106 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Let them come, the ungrateful wretches, to 
whom I have given employment for years,” re- 
plied he, haughtily. “In my factory* are four 
hundred and thirty-five people who will stand 
by me against the weavers. We have guns and 
other weapons to keep them at bay. One shot 
among them will scatter them in all directions. 
You, Herr Schoolmaster, have much to answer 
for in stirring up this fire, and you are getting 
frightened, now that there is danger of your 
being scorched.” 

“My conscience is entirely clear of anything 
of the kind,” replied Herr Krown, mildly; “in- 
stead, I have done the best that I could to 
make your work-people contented. I hope and 
pray that my fears of a rebellion are without 
foundation ; and may God take us in his keep- 
ing, and spare us the crime of bloodshed ! ” 

His words made but little impression upon 
the mill-owner, and Herr Krown went home, 
told his wife of his intentions, and set out for 
Warmbrunn to give the authorities knowledge 
of the affair, that they might be prepared to 
send assistance at short notice if it were needed. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE ATTACK. 

R EICHENSTEIN was a long, straggling 
village of about a thousand inhabitants, 
many of them weavers ; but farmers and day- 
laborers allied themselves to the weavers in 
their intended attack upon the factory, some 
because they feared the destruction of their 
own property, if they did not; and others, be- 
cause they were glad of an opportunity to show 
their spite against the mill-owner. 

Night drew on, and what the schoolmaster 
dreaded came to pass ; the weavers, inflamed 
by anger and strong drink, congregated in the 
saloons to discuss the order of proceeding, then 
marched in a body to make the attack, the 
crowd increasing as it passed on. 

Herr Laudermann was warned of their ap- 
proach, and could have gotten out of their 
reach, but he considered it cowardly to take 
refuge in flight, besides, he counted upon the 
faithfulness of his men in the factory, and be- 
107 


108 


In Fair Silesia. 


lieved a few shots fired at random among the 
crowd would scatter them to their homes. But 
as a rule the men in the factory sided with the 
weavers, instead of remaining there to defend 
their employers property they slipped out, and 
in the darkness joined the attacking party, 
aiding in carrying on the work of destruction. 
A few remained faithful, among them Spining- 
master Buckert, who seeing that the mob had 
halted at Herr Laudermann’s dwelling and 
was about to attack it, hurried from the factory 
in order to assist the mill-owner in barricading, 
and other means of defence. 

The enemy was not a company of well-disci- 
plined soldiers marching to battle, but a rough, 
half-intoxicated mob, who commenced the at- 
tack with shouts and yells, for the double pur- 
pose of frightening the mill-owner and his fam- 
ily, and putting spirit in the laggers who had 
joined them. 

The savage yells had its effect upon the wife 
and daughter of Herr Laudermann, they were 
almost insensible from fright and, plead with 
him to flee with them to a place of safety, but 
instead, he raised a window in the second story 


The Attack, 


109 


and called to the mob to know the cause of 
their attack. A storm of bricks, stones and 
whatever else they could lay their hands upon 
was the answer, which shattered all the front 
windows of the handsome dwelling, some of the 
broken glass flying in the faces of the mill- 
owner and Adolph, cutting them severely. 

“ Fire among the cowardly hounds ! ” cried 
Herr Laudermann, in a rage, and Ruckert 
obeyed, but instead of intimidating the mob, 
as expected, it only excited them to greater 
deeds of violence, and with renewed shouts 
and yells they battered down the doors and 
swarmed through the house. 

“ Burn the murderer’s den ! ” they yelled, 
“burn all that belongs to him;” “kill him like 
a dog, he tried to kill us ! ” These and many 
other terrible threats were made by the infuri- 
ated mob as they searched for the hated mill- 
owner and his family, and not finding them, 
proceeded to throw the costly furniture into 
the street. Elegant mirrors, drapery, valuable 
paintings, statuary, piano, chandeliers, and all 
other valuable possessions of a wealthy house- 
hold lay in heaps before the door, and plun- 


110 


In Fair Silesia. 


derers were on hand to carry off what they 
could sell. 

The cellar was visited, and expensive wines 
and other liquors were distributed among the 
crowd, increasing their already intoxicated con- 
dition and adding to their violence and bru- 
tality. 

The tumult was heard in the village, sending 
terror to the hearts of women and children, 
among them the family of Schoolmaster Krown ; 
the din of breaking glass, the yielding to heavy 
blows upon doors and windows, the shouts and 
yells, and, above all, the sound of fire-arms 
were tokens of violence which none could listen 
to unmoved. 

Frau Krown’s anxiety for her husband was so 
great that she could not remain at home, but 
taking her daughter Anna, and Helena by the 
hand, she went to the scene, accompanied by 
Joseph and Fritz. They glided along under 
the cover of darkness through the garden way 
until they reached the arbor back of the dwell- 
ing, from whence they could see and hear yet 
be unnoticed by the mob. They were scarcely 
inside when they heard a suppressed sob, and 


The Attach. Ill 

were conscious that others beside themselves 
were in the arbor. 

“Who is here? ” inquired Frau Krown. 

“A poor frightened mother and her daugh- 
ter,” was the response. 

“ Gracious Father above ! ” said Frau Krown, 
“it is the voice of Frau Laudermann,” and she 
reached out her hand and placed it upon the 
head of the terror-stricken woman. 

“Yes, and I know you have a tender, Chris- 
tian heart and will not betray us to our enemies, 
but will help us to escape. Oh, Frau Krown, 
I am nearly dead from anxiety and terror.” 

“Don’t despair, dear friend; come, we will 
help you to our home in the village ; there you 
will be safe.” 

“But I cannot walk,” replied the lady, with 
a groan of pain, “ I fell while running here for 
safety, and sprained my ankle terribly. My 
Toska tried with all her frail strength to help 
me, but I had to stay here, dreading each min- 
ute that they would find us and kill us.” 

“Come, boys, help me,” said Frau Krown, 
and half leading, half carrying the almost help- 
less lady, they passed out the garden, and were 


112 


In Fair Silesia. 


keeping close to the hedge to avoid notice, 
when they heard the footsteps of some of the 
rioters following them. 

“I am lost!” said poor Frau Laudermann, 
almost fainting from terror. 

“No, no! don’t lose courage! They will not 
know you if you don’t speak.” 

“ Save my Toska,” moaned the poor mother, 
“and let me die if I must! Oh! my poor hus- 
band and son ! Perhaps they are already 
dead!” 

“Don’t speak, but let us walk on as though 
not seeing them,” whispered Frau Krown, and 
at the same instant Lenchen slipped the white 
bandage from her head, and placed it on that 
of Toska. 

“They will think that you are the one who 
was hurt in the mill,” she whispered, “ and no- 
thing will tempt them to harm you.” 

“Halt! Who are you?” cried several rough 
voices, as their owners blocked the way. 

“Your good friend Schoolmaster Krown’s 
wife, and her children and foster-children. 
Please let us hurry home, for we are somewhat 
frightened at the noise.” 


The Attack . 


113 


“But who is this woman with you? Tell us 
that!” cried one of the men, roughly. 

“It is one of my friends who is coming to 
visit me, and, as she has a sprained ankle, we 
have to walk slowly in the dark.” 

“Wait until the mill-owner’s house is on fire, 
and it will be light enough.” 

“Take heed that the whole village does not 
go up in flame. The wind is in the east, and 
will carry the sparks to the straw roofs. What 
harm has the house done, that you wish to de- 
stroy it ? ” 

“The house has done nothing, only the man 
who lived in it. If we capture a snail, we take 
his house with him ; if we take an ear of corn, 
we take the husk.” 

“But in burning his house, you will, in all 
likelihood, burn your own. Remember that.” 

The men hurried back to their yelling com- 
panions, while Frau Krown walked on to the 
village, with the help of the boys getting Frau 
Laudermann safely into the school-house, and 
placed her upon a lounge; then she prepared 
soothing applications for the swollen and pain- 
ful ankle. In her care for her guest she did 


8 


114 


In Fair Silesia. 


not notice that the children had all gone back 
to the factory; but it did not give her much 
anxiety, as she knew that they would be care- 
ful to keep out of danger. 

Her words in regard to the danger to the vil- 
lage were duly considered, even in the excited 
and intoxicated condition of the rioters, and as 
soon as they rejoined their companions they 
yelled, “The machinery! the machinery!” and 
the attention of the mob was turned from burn- 
ing the dwelling to the destruction of the works 
in the factory. 

Bushing there, they stormed the heavily-bar- 
ricaded door until they battered it down ; then 
they streamed into the great rooms and corri- 
dors, and were met by one man, no other than 
Schoolmaster Krown, who was almost breath- 
less from his hurried ride from Warmbrunn, 
where he had been to give notice of the attack, 
and to ask that aid be sent immediately. Be- 
hind him were his children and foster-children, 
who felt safe where he was, and were deeply 
interested in the stirring affair. 

“Back! back, my brethren!” he said, earn- 
estly. “Listen to me, if you do not wish to 


The Attack. 


115 


bring trouble upon yourselves. In less than 
ten minutes there will be a company of cavalry 
here to defend the property of Herr Lauder- 
mann. It is not too late for you to save your- 
selves, if you will now fly to your homes ; but 
every minute adds to your danger. I am tell- 
ing you the exact truth ; and I, your true friend 
and the teacher of your children, tell you this 
to warn you, and to keep you from imprison- 
ment, wounds, and death ; and if you care no- 
thing for yourselves, think of the distress that 
you are bringing upon your wives and children. 
In the name of the dear Saviour who died 
for us all, I implore you to leave here and go 
home.” 

“Stand back, Schoolmaster, if you don’t wish 
to be run over, and yourself and your children 
to be killed,” cried the leader. “We want no 
preaching here now, nor foolish threats of sol- 
diers ; we mean to break up the machinery that 
is taking the bread out of our mouths. Stand 
back, or your blood will be on your own head.” 

“Let them alone, Krown,” said a sneering 
voice from the door of the spinning-room, that 
of Herr Ruckert; “don’t cool their enthusiasm. 


116 In Fair Silesia. 

You don’t understand this weaver element. 
Come in, come in, friends; there is plenty of 
room in here. Stand back, Schoolmaster, and 
let my guests come in. The tea-kettle, in the 
shape of a steam-engine, is bubbling over the 
fire, the safety-valve is in the right position for 
an explosion, and perhaps hundreds of weavers 
will bite the dust for this night’s work. Come 
in! come in!” 

“The spinning-master is not telling the 
truth!” yelled one of the men. “He is trying 
to frighten us away ; we will destroy the steam- 
engine first, and then we will have nothing to 
fear. Forward, men, forward ! ” 

Herr Krown could do nothing more, and he 
stepped back with the children, with the ex- 
ception of Joseph, who had run into the engine- 
room, and was standing by the huge engine 
when the mob rushed in, meeting no opposition 
from Ruckert, who had been struck upon the 
forehead by a stone hurled by one of the men, 
and was lying senseless upon the floor of the 
spinning-room. 

During Joseph’s stay in the factory he had 
often watched the engineer as he put on and 


The Attack . 


117 


off the steam, and he resolved to put his know- 
ledge into practice ; so, when the men crowded 
about the engine, uncertain where to commence 
the work of destruction, he, without being ob- 
served by them, drew the valve, and, with a 
shrill whistle, the steam poured forth, filling 
the room. 

Knowing the malicious and revengeful nature 
of the spinning-master, and the dangerous power 
of the engine, they thought that it was about to 
explode, and fell over each other in their haste 
to leave the factory. They were not a moment 
too soon, for the steady gallop of horses’ hoofs 
sounded in the distance, and a company of 
cavalry appeared, dashed up to the factory, 
and called a halt; and when they surrounded 
the factory quiet reigned within, where had 
been wild tumult. 

Herr Krown had been quite as much fright- 
ened by the terrible noise made by the escaping 
steam as the weavers ; so much, indeed, that he 
did not feel the shock of being thrown upon the 
stone floor by the terrified herd, and his chil- 
drin shared his terror. In vain Joseph assured 
them there was no danger, for, instead of being 


118 


In Fair /Silesia. 


imprisoned where it could do harm, it was es- 
„ caping into the room where it was harmless; 
the noise it made was so frightful to the listen- 
ers, that they could not be satisfied until they 
were safely out of the factory. 

Joseph and Helena were not willing to go 
without seeing their uncle, so, leaving the en- 
gine-room, they went to the spinning-room, 
where they found him motionless upon the 
floor, blood oozing from a deep cut on his fore- 
head. He was so still that the children thought 
him dead, and seeing it was impossible to lift 
him, Joseph ran to ask Herr Krown to come. 

No matter who it might be that needed help 
in trouble or affliction the heart of Herr Krown 
responded to the call, and far and near he was 
known and honored for his Christian compas- 
sion and good works. Therefore, he quickly 
responded, although Kuckert was an enemy, 
who never spoke a good word of him, and would 
have refused help had the cases been reversed 
and Schoolmaster Krown the injured one. 

“Lenchen, I wish you and Fritz and Anna 
to go directly home, the mother will be terribly 
anxious about you,” said he. 


The Attack . 


119 


“Unless yon would rather have me go I would 
like to stay with uncle,” said Helena, “ maybe 
I could be of some help.” 

“ Certainly, child, I only thought it would be 
painful to you, when you have not as yet re- 
covered your strength ; ” and both hurried to 
the spinning-room, while Fritz and Anna went 
home. 

During this conversation, torches carried by 
cavalrymen were flaming through the factory 
and yard surrounding it, search being made 
for the weavers. More than a dozen, who were 
too intoxicated to escape, were found in and 
about the factory, and as many more in the 
cellar of Herr Laudermann’s dwelling, and all 
placed under arrest. 

The noise made by the heavy footsteps, clat- 
tering swords and spurs, through the empty 
rooms of the dwelling, was heard by the two 
terrified ones hidden in the attic. 

“Adolph, are you there?” inquired a sub- 
dued voice. 

“ Yes, father.” 

It sounds as though soldiers have taken the 
place of the weavers. 


120 


In Fair Silesia. 


“ I hope so, father ; I cannot bear this 
cramped position much longer, and the floor 
Seems as hard as iron.” 

“ Nothing could have saved us had they set 
the house on fire, as they threatened. But 
your poor mother and sister ! My heart is 
tortured in regard to their fate. If all had 
been faithful like Buckert things would not 
have come to this terrible pass.” 

“Oh, father, I thought we could not live 
through it ; I expected each moment would be 
our last.” 

“Hark!” said Herr Laudermann, “some one 
is coming; be still until we see whether they 
are friends or enemies.” 

The footsteps came nearer, and paused at 
the door of the attic room, and by the light of 
the torch carried Herr Laudermann recognized 
the sheriff of Warmbrunn and three of his aids. 

“I do not see a living creature about the 
house,” remarked the sheriff, holding up the 
torch that the light might fall in the distant 
corners; and father and son crept from their 
place of concealment. 

“You see what has come upon us, Herr 


The Attack . 


121 


Sheriff,” said the mill-owner; “but, worse than 
all, I am tortured with anxiety for my wife and 
my daughter. They ran out of the house, at 
my bidding, to conceal themselves in the gar- 
den, and I hope that they are safe, but I fear 
the worst. I hope that you will arrest School- 
master Krown, for he is to blame for all this 
trouble. He has been talking secretly to the 
weavers and stirring up their anger against me, 
and this is what it has led to ; my property de- 
stroyed, and my wife and daughter driven from 
their home, and perhaps not among the living.” 

“ You are mistaken in regard to Schoolmaster 
Krown,” replied the sheriff. “He walked the 
six miles to Warmbrunn and back to give us 
warning ; and he went again this evening when 
he found that the attack was to be made. Had 
it not been for him, your factory and machinery 
would have been destroyed. He is the good 
Samaritan who is even now binding up the 
wounds of his enemy, Spinning- master Kuck- 
ert.” 

The mill-owner was filled with surprise at 
hearing this; and when, a few minutes after, 
Joseph came from the factory, sent by Herr 


122 


In Fair Silesia. 


Krown, to tell him that his wife and daughter 
were safe in the schoolhouse, his joy and grati- 
tude knew no bounds, and he was deeply 
ashamed that he had fostered such an ill opin- 
ion of a noble man. 

It was found that Herr Euckert was fatally 
injured, though the physician from Eeichen- 
stein and Dr. Keller from Warmbrunn said 
that he might linger for several weeks. 

He was faithfully attended by Lenchen and 
Joseph, and Schoolmaster Krown gave up to 
him all his hours out of school, not only in 
care for his bodily needs, but for the saving of 
his immortal soul. For more than two months 
he lingered, and in the still watches of the 
night Herr Krown read God’s word to the re- 
pentant man, talked with him, prayed for him, 
and comforted him ; and poor Euckert died in 
peace, his robes made white in the blood of 
the Lamb, one over whom the angels rejoiced. 


CHAPTEB X. 


MANY CHANGES. 

T HE death of Buckert made a great impres- 
sion upon the mill-owner; nothing hav- 
ing in his previous experience influenced his 
thoughts from money-getting to another and 
better way of living. 

He knew the spinning-master to be a rough, 
godless, beer-drinking man ; that he had be- 
come entirely changed by the power of the 
gospel and died in peace, was to him a powerful 
sermon upon the efficacy of that gospel. That 
Schoolmaster Krown was the one privileged 
to lead him to his Saviour, and the blissful as- 
surance of life beyond the grave, turned his 
attention to the worth and value of a Christian 
friend and neighbor. This and the loss of his 
property set Herr Laudermann to realizing that 
“ it is not all of life to live, nor all of death to die.’’ 

The treasures which he had spent the best 
years of his life accumulating had been taken 
from him, he longed to lay up treasures in 
123 


124 


In Fair Silesia. 


heaven where “ moth corrupts not, nor thieves 
break through and steal.” 

He consulted Schoolmaster Krown in regard 
to his workmen, and that clear-sighted friend 
gave him counsel which changed enemies into 
friends. He longed for the peace which “pas- 
seth all understanding,” and Schoolmaster 
Krown pointed out the path. 

Joseph, too, in his simple piety was a great 
help to Herr Laudermann in the new life he 
was striving to lead ; for, since the death of his 
uncle Ruckert, he had been a member of the 
mill-owner’s family. He shared the studies of 
Adolph under the instruction of an experienced 
tutor, and, when not thus employed, was secre- 
tary for Herr Laudermann at a good salary, 
part of which was forwarded to his mother in 
Schellerhaus. 

Lenchen was a competent spinner in the fac- 
tory, remaining in the family of Herr Krown, 
where she received a good education, and part 
of her wages was sent to her mother, which, 
with the three hundred dollars in bank, was 
being saved for the purchase of a home for 
Frau Eckhardt. 


125 


Many Changes. 

Adolph, Joseph and Fritz, as they grew to 
manhood, served their apprenticeship in the 
army, according to German law ; Adolph choos- 
ing a soldier’s life, while the others returned to 
peaceful Reichenstein, where Fritz assisted his 
father in the school. 

Thus ten years passed away from the time 
Ruckert had met his death, when two important 
events transpired which were a subject of in- 
terest, not only to the family of the mill- owner 
and that of the schoolmaster, but to the whole 
village of Reichenstein. 

This was the marriage of Toska Laudermann 
to Joseph Eckhardt, and the other, that of the 
marriage of Helena Eckhardt to Fritz Krown, 
both upon the same day. 

The old church of Reichenstein was deco- 
rated by order of Herr Laudermann for the 
occasion, and Frau Eckhardt was sent for to 
make a visit to both families, and be present at 
the weddings. 

In the frequent visits which her children had 
made to Schellerhaus, she had rejoiced over 
their improvement, bodily and spiritual, giving 
thanks to God, who had protected them in their 


126 


In Fair Silesia. 


struggle with the world ; and the fact that now 
they were to be thus happily settled in life 
filled her with gratitude. 

The school-children had a holiday that they 
might attend the weddings; and the girls, all 
robed in white, scattered fragrant flowers in the 
path of the brides as they walked up the path 
to the church. 

It had been decided that all the wedding 
company should come from the church to the 
house of Schoolmaster Krown, as that was the 
home of three of the newly-married ones, Toska 
and her parents giving ready assent. So the 
wedding supper was enjoyed together; the ta- 
ble was beautifully decorated, the brides’ cakes 
being marvels of the Berlin confectioner’s art. 

They had just finished, and had left the sup- 
per-room for the parlor, when they heard a fa- 
miliar voice in the street : 

“Blackberries! Blackberries! Juniper ber- 
ries! Juniper berries! Fresh and sweet!” 

“It is Barenklein!” cried Joseph, his eyes 
beaming with pleasure; “I must go out and 
see him.” 

“Bring him in to supper, Joseph,” said Herr 
Krown. 


127 


Many Changes. 

Helena was glad to hear the cry of the fruit- 
seller, and she hoped that he would accept the 
invitation. 

“Come in, Barenklein! come in!” said Jo- 
seph, from the porch. “You will see several 
of your old friends and neighbors, who will be 
glad to see you.” 

“But this is your and your sister’s wedding- 
day, and you have other guests,” objected 
Barenklein; but Joseph noticed that he wore 
his holiday suit. 

“Only a very few friends, Barenklein, and 
they will be glad to see a friend of ours ; be- 
sides, Herr Krown invites you to come in and 
take supper.” 

Barenklein made no further objection, and, 
after being kindly spoken to by the guests, he 
was taken by Fritz to the supper-room, where 
he enjoyed many delicacies to which he was 
unaccustomed; but more than all he appreciat- 
ed the kindness of Joseph and Lenchen, the 
mountain children, whom he had known all 
their lives, and had given them of his berries 
whenever opportunity afforded. 

After supper he remained a little while in the 


128 


In Fair Silesia. 


parlor, all being kind to the little man ; and, 
when he arose to leave, he asked Joseph to 
come to the porch with him. 

“I wish to give yon and Lenchen a basket 
of my best berries,” said he ; “I picked them 
from the mountains on purpose to give you; 
they are fresh and sweet, and they are all that 
I have to give, except my very best wishes for 
your happiness.” 

“It is good and kind in you, Barenklein. I 
am much obliged to you, and I know that Len- 
chen will appreciate your kindness. I will get 
a basket for the berries.” 

“Yes, Herr Joseph; but before you go I 
have something to tell you. On my way here I 
saw a man who could scarcely walk, he was so 
thin and weak and ill. He begged something 
of me, and, poor as I am, I could not refuse ; I 
gave him two silver groschen, which was all that 
I had. He was so overcome that he had to sit 
down on a bank, and I sat down with him, and 
asked him to tell me how it was that he was in 
such need. He told me that he was a weaver, 
but that he had just served a ten years’ term in 
prison because he was a leader in an insurrec- 


129 


Many Changes . 

tion against the factory-owner, Herr Lauder- 
mann, and threw the stone which caused the 
death of your Uncle Ruckert. He could get no 
work after he was discharged from prison, and 
has wandered around, forlorn and miserable, 
his clothes in tatters and his feet almost on the 
ground. His only great longing is for the rest 
of the grave. All the time, dear Herr Joseph, 
that 1 was enjoying that good supper, I was 
thinking of the poor man. Now, for what, am 
I telling you this? That you, dear bridegroom, 
may celebrate your marriage, and express your 
gratitude to God who has so blessed you, by 
doing the Christian kindness of helping this 
poor creature.” 

“I will, Barenklein, I will,” said Joseph, 
deeply touched; “ only tell me where I can find 
him.” 

“When I parted from him I told him to go 
to the village inn, and to use one of the silver 
groschen in providing himself with a substan- 
tial meal. He promised me to do so, and I am 
sure that you will find him there. Now you 
can get the basket for the berries, Herr Joseph.” 

It was brought and filled with the rich, ripe 
9 


130 


In Fair Silesia. 


berries; and then, satisfied that he had been 
able to make a bridal present, though an hum- 
ble one, Barenklein went cheerily on his way 
back to Schellerhaus. 

Joseph returned to the parlor, taking Baren- 
klein’s gift to Lenchen, and, while the guests 
were engaged in conversation, he asked School- 
master Krown to come outside. He told him 
of the poor man at the inn, and in a few min- 
utes Herr Krown was on his errand of mercy. 

When he reached the place he found the one 
of whom he was in search seated by himself in 
a corner of the garden which surrounded three 
sides of the inn. He had just finished supper, 
the only substantial meal that he had enjoyed 
for many a day. 

“ Can this be Homier ? ” exclaimed Herr 
Krown, in astonishment, as he gazed upon the 
white-haired man before him. 

“Yes, that is my name,” replied the other, a 
flush of shame rising to his pale face. 

“I don’t wish to alarm or to humiliate you,” 
said the schoolmaster, kindly; “my only aim is 
to help you if I can. We will not trouble our- 
selves about the past ; only the present and the 


131 


Many Changes, 

future is what should interest us. It is very 
evident that you have suffered, and it is the 
duty of every one to help you to health and 
happiness. Here is one friend who welcomes 
you back to your old home, and no doubt you 
will find many more.” 

“ But I took a man’s life ; I was the one who 
threw the stone that caused Buckert’s death. 
That thought is never out of my mind ; it has 
robbed me of all that makes life worth living, a 
clear conscience. Oh! if that miserable night 
were to be lived over, how differently I would 
act! The remorse has made me old and gray 
before my time. The burden of my sin crushes 
me to the earth ; I can never hold up my head 
among those who once knew me.” 

“ Our Saviour tells us that though our sins 
be as scarlet they shall be made white as wool ; 
our God turns no penitent away; dare weak 
man hold enmity against his neighbor? ” 

“Had I heeded your counsel and given up 
my miserable traffic of beer-selling, robbing my 
neighbors of the money which should have gone 
to the support of their families, it would not 
perhaps have been necessary for you to plead 


132 


In Fair Silesia. 


with ns not to attack the machinery. We were 
maddened by strong drink, and would not listen 
to reason.” 

“Still recalling the past,” said the school- 
master; “come, now, Homier, you have per- 
haps years of life before you in which you can 
redeem all that has gone. But you are worn 
out and faint; I will leave you now and will 
see you to-morrow; but before going will give 
orders to the innkeeper to give you a com- 
fortable bed and good meals, and I will pay for 
all ; what you must do is to eat and sleep, and 
throw all anxiety for the past aside ; it can do 
no good to you nor any one to brood over what 
cannot be helped. Put all cares from you by 
casting them upon the Saviour, which he asks 
us, nay pleads with us to do. There is no 
friend like him ; his comfort never fails.” 

When Herr Krown returned to his home, 
the wedding company listened with deep in- 
terest to the story of Homier, and the next 
morning' Joseph accompanied him back to the 
inn to see him. 

Joseph had spoken to Toska in regard to 
giving the poor man a home with them, and 


133 


Many Changes. 

she and her parents highly approved of it. It 
had been decided months before that Joseph 
and Toska should have their home in the mill- 
owner’s dwelling, as Herr Laudermann had 
arranged to give up all charge of the factory 
into the hands of Joseph, and retire from busi- 
ness, he and Frau Laudermann to reside in 
their handsome dwelling in Berlin. 

If anything could have cheered the oppressed 
heart of Homier this offer would have done so; 
he was deeply grateful, and promised to be as 
useful as was possible to him. 

But suddenly his face clouded, and he seemed 
lost in thought. 

“What is it, Homier; what troubles you?” 
said Joseph. 

“ Barenklein told me that your wife is the 
daughter of Herr Laudermann ; does she know 
that I am Homier, who helped to plunder her 
father’s house, and would have burned it to the 
ground had it not been for Frau Krown ? Will 
she have as a servant a man who caused the 
death of poor Buckert ? ” 

“Yes; my Toska is a Christian* she forgives 
as she hopes to be forgiven.” 


134 


In Fair Silesia. 


“ Then I will go to your good home, and God 
helping me, will be faithful to your interests; 
so far as in me lies I will try to atone for the 
past.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE ODER RIVER. 

H OMIER left the inn that day and was 
given a comfortable room in the home 
which ten years before he had helped to de- 
stroy, and as his strength returned, he became 
invaluable upon the place. He cared for the 
garden, orchards, and poultry ; was, in truth, a 
trusty and trusted care-taker of the house and 
grounds. 

He seldom alluded to his early life, and a 
deep sadness rested upon him, yet he was not 
unhappy. He seemed though in the world not 
to be of it, and his sole aim was to do all he 
could for the good of his fellow-men while per- 
mitted to remain upon earth. 

Through the influence of Herr Krown his 
thoughts had been turned to the saving of his 
immortal soul, and in the old church of Reich- 
enstein he had been brought into the visibly 
fold, a meek and lowly follower of Jesus. 

The pastor valued his helpfulness in the 
135 


136 


In Fair Silesia. 


community, and Schoolmaster Krown, who 
was organist, considered him the best singer 
in the choir. All who knew him had faith in 
his sincerity, and he was honored and esteemed, 
not only by the three families with which he 
was closely connected, but by the whole neigh- 
borhood. 

One day he was grafting trees in School- 
master Krown’s garden, and thinking himself 
alone, he sighed deeply. Herr Krown, who hap- 
pened to be near by, halted, and spoke kindly. 

“ You sigh, Homier,” said he, “ what is it 
that troubles you ? ” 

“Oh, there is much to trouble me, Herr 
Schoolmaster; my conscience will not let me 
rest.” 

“ But, Homier, you live at peace with God 
and man.” 

“I know it, but I have no temptation to do 
otherwise ; what was done in the past can nev- 
er be undone. Look at this plum tree, Herr 
Schoolmaster, see this deformity of the trunk, 
which can never be remedied. So it is with 
my life, nothing can make it right. I caused 
the death of poor Buckert; that thought will 


The Oder River . 


137 


not leave me. The Bible says : ‘ Whoso slied- 
deth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be 
shed.’ If I had my just deserts I would not 
now be among the living.” 

“ Poor Homier, you have deeply repented of 
that, and God never turns a penitent away. 
You do all you can for Jesus.” 

“How can I when he is no longer upon 
earth? ” 

“ What you do. to the most humble of Christ’s 
brethren you do unto him. In your faithful 
care and pious influence over Joseph’s little 
son, and Fritz’s little daughter, you are doing 
work for Jesus.” 

“ But if I could do some good deed ; if I 
could save the life of several persons, or even 
one, it would go far toward making me atone 
for the death of Kuckert.” 

“ To preserve people, particularly little ones, 
from injury is not less a merit than to free 
them from danger,” said the schoolmaster; 
“cheer up, Homier, you fill your place well in 
the world, Joseph’s and Fritz’s family would not 
know how to do without you ; ” and with these 
words he passed on. 


138 


In Fair Silesia. 


At the same time that Joseph and Toska 
took possession of their home, Fritz and Helena 
went to theirs, which was a small farm beyond 
the village of Reichenstein, lying in a valley, 
and principally devoted to the raising of flow- 
ers. Here they lived a contented, peaceful life, 
varied by visits to and from Frau Eckhardt, 
Joseph and Toska, and Father Krown and his 
family. 

One afternoon in midsummer, Toska, with 
her little Adolph, went to take tea with Fritz 
add Helena. 

It had been raining violently at times for 
several days and nights, but that afternoon the 
sun was shining brightly when Toska left home, 
but the sky had again clouded, and there was 
a prospect of more rain. 

She found Helena and Frau Eckhardt, who 
had come that morning from Schellerhaus for a 
few days’ visit, putting up flower-seeds in little 
packets, and she sat down in her cheery, social 
way to help them, the two children being com- 
pany for each other, and amused with Ulrica’s 
toys. 

“I am so glad that you came,” said Helena, 


The Oder River. 139 

cordially; “mother and I were wishing for 
you.” 

“And for Joseph,” said Fritz, coming in to 
welcome her, and overhearing the words of his 
wife. “ Isn’t he coming ? ” 

“Yes, he will be here presently ; he has gone 
to examine the high-water mark of the Oder. 
The terrible rains which we have had for sev- 
eral days fill him with anxiety. He thinks that 
more falls there will be an overflow of the river.” 

“He is not alone in his anxiety,” said Fritz; 
“all the people in Reichenstein are more or 
less troubled. Thank our heavenly Father, we 
are in a safe place, for within the memory of 
the oldest inhabitant the inundation has never 
reached this spot ; yet we will watch the result 
with anxiety on account of others.” 

“Homier is of a different opinion,” said 
Toska; “he firmly believes that there will be a 
greater overflow than ever before, and like a 
second Noah, he has been constructing an ark, 
in the shape of a float, out of the pieces of 
lumber that he could find upon the place. Jo- 
seph smiles, but does not interfere, for he knows 
that it will he an easy matter to knock it to 


140 


In Fair Silesia . 


pieces if the wood is ever needed for some- 
thing else.” 

“We have thought for some time that Ho- 
mier is not altogether in his right mind, Toska. 
Have you and Joseph noticed that he seems to 
be even more sad and preoccupied than usual? ” 

“Yes, his thoughts seem to be far away from 
earth. He never smiles, yet he is gentle and 
kind to all ; but only our little Adolph has 
power to cheer him.” 

“Hark!” said Fritz, his head bent in the at- 
titude of listening, “I hear the storm-signal 
from the church ; I must go and see what it 
means. The poor people are not only in fear 
of loss of property, but of their lives. If our 
Chamber of Deputies had spent one-hundredtli 
part of the millions of dollars which were spent 
upon the Turko-Russian dispute, a strong dam 
could have been built, which would have pre- 
vented an overflow for all time ; and if one-half 
of the million soldiers had laid down musket 
and sword, and had taken up pick and shovel, 
the work could have been done in one autumn.” 

“You are right,” said Toska. “This unchris- 
tian work of war, and the keeping of such an 


The Oder River . 


141 


immense standing army, takes the money and 
labor which should be used for the improve- 
ment of our beloved Fatherland, and ” 

She said no more, for at that instant a stream 
of water glided under the door, and made its 
way to the distant corners of the room. 

“May God protect us!” cried Fritz, as, with 
a face pale with anxiety, he sprang to the door. 
“The Oder has overflowed its banks, and has 
reached even here!” 


CHAPTER XII. 


RETURN HOME. 

T HERE was great cause for fear and anxie- 
ty, for the volume of water was growing 
broader and deeper, and the first floor of the 
dwelling was quickly covered. 

Toska and Helena had grasped their chil- 
dren at the first sight of the water, and had re- 
treated to the steps which led to the second 
floor. Step by step they were compelled to 
ascend, while Fritz collected bread and other 
food, lamp and matches,' and all that they would 
be likely to need in their enforced seclusion. 

The women had taken positions in a corner 
where there was no window, that they might 
not see the roaring flood, Eritz keeping his 
anxiety to himself, that they might not be more 
alarmed than could be helped. 

His house was strong enough to withstand 
the wind-storms that had visited the valley, 
but it had never been called upon to battle 
with an overflow of the Oder, and he dreaded 
the consequences. 


142 


Return Home. 


143 


He stood by the window which looked to- 
wards the church-tower, and thought of the 
people of Reichenstein, who were in terror and 
danger. 

“No one is coming to our assistance,” said 
Helena. “Surely father will think of us, and 
of the danger that we are in.” 

“How could any one come?” questioned 
Toska. “There is not a boat in the village that 
I know of. And Joseph, where is he?” And 
she clasped her hands in anguish. 

“Don’t be distressed about him, Toska. He 
is on horseback, and no doubt got to a place of 
safety,” said Fritz. 

“Listen to the signal from the church-tower; 
how terribly dreary it sounds!” said Helena, 
with pale lips and tear-dimmed eyes. 

“It is too late for us; no one can help us 
now,” answered Toska. 

Fritz was walking back and forth the length 
of the apartment, his heart lifted up to God in 
prayer, for he felt that only God’s interposition 
could preserve them from a watery grave. 

“Fritz,” said Helena, “it seems to me that 
the wall is leaning. Is it only fancy?” 


144 


In Fair Silesia. 


A thrill of horror went through the heart of 
her husband at these words, for he, too, had 
noticed it, and her remark confirmed his fears. 

At that moment there was a tap upon the 
shutter, and a well-known voice asked, “Who 
is here?” 

Fritz ran to the window and opened it, and 
there was Homier on his float, which he had 
fastened by a rope to the house. 

“Thank heaven that you are all safe!” said 
he, glancing in. “I have put this short ladder 
against the sill, and all of you must come down 
as quickly as possible. I can feel the house 
moving upon its foundations. Frau Toska and 
her boy must come first; then all the others 
quickly. 

Helena held little Adolph while Fritz assist- 
ed Toska through the window and down the 
ladder, and when she was safely seated upon 
the float the little one was passed down to her- 

“Now, Frau Helena,” said Homier, “come 
quickly ; then Frau Eckhardt. Please waste 
no moment.” 

“Let mother come first, good Homier, and 
she will take little Ulrica, while I descend ; ” 


Return Home. 


145 


and Helena drew tlie terror-stricken woman to 
the window, she and Fritz helping her care- 
fully to the raft. 

The little girl was next passed down, quickly 
followed by Helena, and Fritz was about to 
step through the window when Homier mount- 
ed the ladder and prevented him. 

“Let me in through the window, Herr Fritz, 
then, after you reach the float, I will draw the 
ladder up, and you must push away.” 

“ But you are going with us,” cried Fritz, in 
astonishment, “we will not leave you here to 
perish.” 

“Only let me through the window, I will tell 
you then what I mean ; I ask this for the good 
of all.” 

Fritz saw there was no time to waste in con- 
troversy ; he stepped back, and Homier came in. 

“Now, go down the ladder, and when you 
are safe upon the float I will untie the rope 
that holds it. Hurry, the house is trembling 
from roof to foundation.” 

Fritz stepped quickly through the window, 
and the moment he was on the float Homier 
drew up the ladder and untied the rope. 

10 


146 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Now, push off!” cried he, pointing to the 
spot where the oars were placed, “ and may 
God be with you and keep you.” 

“ But, Homier, we cannot, will not go without 
you,” cried Toska and the others, in a breath. 

“ The float will not bear any more, my added 
weight would endanger you all.” 

“I will not save my life at the expense of 
yours,” said Fritz; “you are saving the lives 
of my wife and child, if one must remain in the 
house, that one must not be their deliverer;” 
and he rose to his full height and grasped the 
window sill. 

“ Herr Fritz, my friend, do not deprive me of 
the fulfilment of my one longing, that of saving 
life' in return for the one I destroyed. Oh ! 
friends, have mercy upon me, and grant this, 
my earnest prayer. Through the grace of God 
let me be your deliverer.” 

“We will,” replied Fritz, deeply moved; 
“but, Homier, you must try to save yourself, 
or your sacrifice will be of no avail. Suicide 
will not atone.” 

“ I will, I will, indeed ; I have no wish to 
destroy the life which God has given me. I 


Return Home . 


147 


am a good swimmer, and will provide myself 
with floating materials when I find there is 
danger in the house. Now, push off; and may 
God protect you.” 

“And take our thanks for your great good- 
ness to us, dear Homier,” said Toska, tearfully, 
“we owe our lives and the lives of our little 
ones to you.” 

“And may God watch over you and bring 
you safely to us!” cried Helena, as the float 
pushed off. 

“Aim for the hill upon which the church 
stands,” called Homier. “If there be a place 
of safety, that is it.” 

“I will return for you if the float holds to- 
gether,” said Fritz. “It is only this hope that 
makes me willing to leave you.” 

“Good, very good; but run no risks for me. 
You are young, and have a long and useful life 
before you. You are a husband and a father, 
and have loving and beloved parents. There 
are many who would grieve for your death; 
there is not one to shed a tear for me.” 

The float pushed off, and Homier watched it 
from the open window. 


148 


In Fair Silesia. 


“Dear Saviour,” prayed he, dropping upon 
his knees, “thou who hast said to the dying 
thief at thy side, ‘This day shalt thou be with 
me in Paradise,’ save my life if it be thy will ; 
if not, take me to dwell forever with thee. My 
prayer has been answered : thou hast given me 
the blessed privilege of delivering my fellow- 
creatures from death.” 

The float in the meantime sped safely over 
the water, and reached the elevation upon 
which stood the church of Eeichenstein. Close 
to the edge of the water were Schoolmaster 
Krown and his wife, and as each one landed 
they clasped them in their arms with tears of joy. 

“Thank God for this great deliverance!” 
said Herr Krown. “Our anxiety knew no 
bounds when we saw your house in the midst 
of the river. We could see no chance for your 
lives; we could only hope and pray, and God 
mercifully answered our prayers. But who and 
where is he who provided for you in this time 
of calamity?” 

“Homier was our good angel, and we could 
not persuade him to come with us, because he 
thought that the float would not bear the weight 


Return Home. 


149 


of so many. But I have promised to go back 
for him; and you will help me, father, to get 
the women and children off the float, that I 
may keep my word to him,” said Fritz. 

Helena looked anxiously at her father-in-law, 
almost hoping that he would persuade Fritz 
not to run such a risk, for she was terribly weak 
and nervous, and believed that he was going to 
his death. 

But the schoolmaster saw only one way, and 
that the right way. 

“An honest man keeps his promise,” said he. 
“Fritz must go ; but one man cannot row against 
the stream; I will go with him; so hurry now 
into the church for shelter, and we will go.” 

“Oh, dear Father Krown,” said Toska, “do 
you know anything of my husband? He had 
not reached home when Homier left.” 

“I have not seen or heard of him,” replied 
the schoolmaster, “but you may be sure that 
he is where there is the most need of him. Do 
not grieve. Our heavenly Father will watch 
over him in this time of terror and anxiety. 
Come now, my son, let us push off, and save 
poor Homier if we can.” 


150 


In Fair Silesia. 


The women would have implored the father 
and son not to risk their lives, but they knew 
it would be of no use, so they gave what help 
they could to push the float from shore, but the 
moment the attempt was made to row against 
the angry flood the float turned about and 
threw both men into the water. 

Terrified screams arose from the lips of the 
women, and they rushed to the water’s edge, 
hoping to render assistance. Father and son 
were good swimmers and they were soon upon 
the shore, and not a moment too soon, for the 
frail float quickly followed and was dashed to 
pieces, the timbers floating down the stream. 

“ May God have pity upon Homier and save 
him, if it be his will,” said Schoolmaster Krown, 
with tears in his kind eyes. 

“You must have dry clothes, you will both 
take your death,” said Frau Krown. 

“If we can get to the school-house we will be 
all right,” replied Herr Krown, “it stands upon 
nearly as high ground as the church, and it may 
be the water has not reached the first floor.” 

“ I will go with you, father, I can be of no 
help here,” said Fritz. 


Return Home . 


151 


The others sat down upon the church-steps 
and looked toward the house where Homier 
was calmly awaiting death, if it be that he was 
to die. 

They were not alone, many others of the 
terror-stricken villagers had fled to the church 
for safety, and cattle and horses swam there, 
and were contentedly cropping grass in the 
large enclosure about the church. 

The schoolmaster and Fritz remained some 
time away, for they moved most of the furniture 
to the second floor, and searched for what pro- 
visions were on hand, and providing themselves 
with dry clothing and other needed things, 
they managed to return without having the 
packages dampened. They also brought with 
them the key of the church, and unlocking the 
door all entered, glad of such a place of refuge. 
Herr Krown lighted the lamps, which rendered 
all, especially the children, more cheerful. 

Toska’s anxiety for the fate of Joseph was so 
great that she could take no comfort in their 
place of shelter; she had begun to despair of 
ever seeing him, when she heard his voice out- 
side the church, and her heart thrilled with joy. 


152 


In Fair Silesia. 


He came in, and his gratitude to Homier could 
not be expressed when he found his loved ones 
safe. 

“ I knew you would be wet, so brought three 
suits of dry clothing; come with us, Joseph, to 
the basement, and we will soon be more com- 
fortable,” said Fritz. 

Taking one of the lamps he had brought from 
home, Herr Krown led the way, and when their 
wet clothing was replaced by dry garments, the 
three men went to the tower to see if the 
house where Homier was awaiting deliverance 
or death was still in view. 

“If it keeps together he is safe,” said Fritz, 
“ and he promised me to try to save himself if 
it went to pieces ; pray God that he may be 
spared.” 

“Look at that point where we see a light,” 
exclaimed Herr Krown, “see, Fritz, that is 
surely your house, and Homier is seated near 
the window with a lamp in one hand and a 
book in the other.” 

“It is his hymn-book,” said Joseph, “he 
carries it about with him all the time, and sings 
from it in all his spare moments. Listen, he 


Return Home. 


153 


is singing now;” and faintly across the water 
came the words: “A strong fortress is our 
God.” 

“His favorite hymn,” said Joseph, softly. 

The sound of the waters deadened the next 
line ; they could not catch it, but the third line 
came to their ears tremulously sweet, “He 
freely helps in all our need.” Then, with a 
dull crash, the house toppled and went over, 
the light was extinguished, and the voice of 
Homior was stilled. 

A groan of anguish escaped the lips of the 
three men, and they pressed each other’s hands 
in silence. 

“If he has gone from earth, he has died the 
death of a Christian,” said Herr Krown; “but 
I cannot help having a hope that we shall yet 
see him in the flesh.” 

“Nothing on earth could give me greater 
pleasure,” said Joseph. “We would miss him 
terribly, but our loss would indeed be his gain.” 

“It would be better to say nothing to the 
others of what we witnessed,” said Fritz; “they 
are so unnerved that we will spare them all we 


can. 


154 


In Fair Silesia. 


They descended to the body of the church, 
and getting the provisions which Fritz had 
brought on the float and which Schoolmaster 
Krown had brought from his house, they ate, 
sharing with others who were entirely unprovid- 
ed for ; and then beds were made for the little 
ones, who were soon in a deep sleep. 

During the long hours of the sleepless night 
the villagers thought of the peaceful hours that 
they had enjoyed in their own homes, and for 
which they had not been sufficiently grateful. 
There was no one who did not grieve for some 
absent member of the family, who might be in 
great danger, or, perhaps, already numbered 
with the dead. 

By noon of the next day the inundation had 
reached its height, and was beginning to re- 
cede; but two nights and a day had passed 
since the people sought refuge in the church, 
and the prospect was that it would be some 
time before they could return to their homes. 
They would have suffered the pangs of hunger 
had not several of the cows given a good sup- 
ply of milk, which was a great boon, especially 
to the children. 


Return Home. 


155 


When the water finally receded it left a scene 
of desolation. The once fertile fields were cov- 
ered by a thick coat of mnd ; trees which were 
not uprooted were stripped of fruit and leaves ; 
dwellings were destroyed, animals drowned, 
and 'the people in despair. 

On the morning of the day in which they 
were to leave the church for their homes, Jo- 
seph and Toska were standing at the foot of 
the knoll, watching the floating timber and 
other things passing down the stream, when 
they heard Joseph’s name called from the 
church-door, and they hurried in. 

To their great joy, they found Homier, very 
pale, weak, and exhausted, but alive and well, 
and very grateful for his great deliverance from 
death. 

He had strapped himself to a board when 
the house went over, and had floated about 
until the receding of the water had left him 
upon the shore some distance down the stream, 
from whence he had managed to walk to the 
church. 

A bowl of hot bread and milk was given him, 
and what wraps the others could spare were 


156 


In Fair Silesia . 


put about him; and when his garments were 
exchanged for the suit worn by Joseph on the 
night of the inundation, and which had been 
carefully dried by Toska, a comfortable bed 
was made for him, and he slept for many hours. 

When all were about to leave the church he 
was awakened, and accompanied Joseph and 
Toska to the home which had been mercifully 
spared to them, softly singing as he walked : 

“A strong fortress is our God,” 










































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